The Walking Dead
by alltheunheard
Summary: Blaine Anderson can see the dead and helps them move on with the aid of his deceased friends, the Warblers. One night he's visited by angry spirit Elizabeth Hummel and asked to help her son. He agrees, unaware of the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes: Okay, so I have posted this here because I've been away from here for a while. I started out in Hercules/Xena fandom. Glee is sort of my new obsession and this is my first fanfic in quite a while, though I've been writing for a long, long, long time. All reviews are appreciated.

A/N: AU from 2.06 (Never Been Kissed) and onwards. This is a fill for a prompt at the angst meme. Several plotlines from following episodes will absolutely be included here. Every chapter will be quite long, as I hate posting many chapters and keeping up with them all.

Warnings: violence, racism, homophobia, suicide (amongst the dead), suicidal thoughts, drug use (among the spirits), bullying, sexual harassment.

Rating: PG-13/R.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The dead visited on a regular basis. Sometimes they came at night and asked impossible things in an effort to settle their unfinished business. An aging Italian ghost once requested a trip to Rome, a mobster wanted a grave dug up, a washed out singer wished for fame and decided to give a lonely boy voice lessons. Blaine Anderson had been seeing the dead for the last two years. They whispered their regrets in his ear and revealed their secrets, hoping someone would care enough to listen.

At first, Blaine pretended he couldn't hear them out of a nagging fear they were nothing except hallucinations. Then he had encountered his first angry, violent ghost and received a broken arm when he refused to listen to the man's request to save his son from drugs. An Asian spirit had rescued him from his terrible, frightening wrath. Wesley Montgomery became his closest friend and confidant afterwards, ready to protect Blaine when he needed it.

Eventually, Blaine accepted Wes' presence and friendship once his parents had sent him to Dalton Academy. Other spirits trickled in to see him, begging for a chance to have their final wishes granted. Blaine started listening to them and discovered how great it felt to help others. Wes served as a filter, keeping the violent spirits away from him while sending those with unreasonable requests to other, more available psychics. Blaine helped parents reconnect with their children one last time, recovered lost family heirlooms, revealed family secrets, and assisted grieving lovers as best he could.

The students at Dalton Academy never laid a finger on the only openly gay student within their rank, but they didn't embrace him either. Blaine could not join the Warblers-at least not the living ones-and instead settled for befriending the restless spirits that roamed the school's polished halls. David taught him to dance and watched football games with him on the weekends. Trent taught him how to cook. Jeff and Nick held hands and frequently demonstrated how gay sex worked, though neither boy could orgasm anymore. Blaine blushed whenever their clothes disappeared, but their willingness to accept and love him warmed his heart.

During the day he attended classes. After school he had several extracurricular activities. At night, he sat in his dorm room and listened to the dead tell him their troubles. The Warblers stood guard outside his room so they could screen potential visitors. Wes banged his wooden gavel whenever a new spirit arrived and the council approved their request to speak with Blaine.

The nights passed quickly, spiraling into the early morning hours without much fanfare. On weekends Blaine received a pass and spent his time full filling each ghost's final requests. The spirits never came back once he completed their unfinished business. He didn't know where they went, and none of the Warblers would tell him many details about the afterlife, but he knew they went somewhere else. Blaine often wondered what lay beyond the corporal world. In his darkest and loneliest moments, he considered slashing his wrists like Trent had or over dosing on drugs like Wes did all those years ago.

Being dead seemed easier than living. Blaine could move on without bothering any psychics, because he had no one other than the dead to love him. His parents lived in Chicago. They owned several corporations and traveled constantly. He had one older brother in college that barely acknowledged his existence. A famous quarterback with a perfect girlfriend, perfect grades, friends, and doting parents didn't have time for a gay brother. Their parents favored Grayson and ignored Blaine. Coming out to them at fourteen had been a mistake.

The gavel banged loudly against the door, announcing a new arrival. Blaine set down his guitar and grabbed his diary. Every page had notes on it. He always put the spirits' requests in the locked journal. Names, addresses, social security numbers, bank accounts, safe deposit box keys, and a host of other information had been securely jotted down in the diary.

Jeff's fair hair peeked through the doorway and a smile brightened his face. "You have a visitor, Blaine."

"Name?" He fetched a pen from his desk and poised it on the plain white paper.

"Elizabeth Hummel. Thirty-nine-years-old when she died from Leukemia. She's from Lima."

Blaine scribbled down the information and waved his hand at Jeff. "Go ahead and send her in."

"Okay."

Most students had roommates at Dalton, but the council had managed to get Blaine a single room. No one except the strange gay kid would live in a room where the school's first black student had been lynched by the football team in nineteen fifty one. Dalton had been ahead of its time, promoting tolerance and integration years before _Brown v. The Board of Education _became precedent. The strict anti-bullying rules had been written into the school's charter and enforced after a hall monitor had found David's body swinging from a rope. The student body had not been so accepting or willing to embrace different races in the early fifties.

Blaine didn't mind staying in infamous room twenty-one, mostly because it meant he had privacy. The students at Dalton tended to be a superstitious and extremely traditional bunch. They believed David's room should remain sacred. The school administration wanted to forget its ugly past and readily agreed to let Blaine live there since he would do so willingly. People often asked him if David haunted the place. Technically he did, but Blaine casually brushed it off and nonchalantly announced he never noticed anything unusual.

A tall, blond haired woman with blue eyes and porcelain skin walked through the closed door. Blaine quickly assessed her clothing choices. Reading endless issues of _Vogue _taught him everything he needed to know about fashion. History books and vintage magazines helped him figure out what era his visitors came from, which assisted in his ability to actually help them live out their dreams.

Elizabeth Hummel wore a tasteful yellow designer dress that he'd seen in last month's issue of _Vogue_. Blaine raised his eyebrows at her polished Prada shoes and white scarf. The woman had clearly been wandering the earth for a while. Most spirits didn't have the ability to alter their appearance unless they had taken the time to figure out they could manipulate the world around them. Some spirits didn't have the patience, several just wanted to move onto the other world, and others never really knew how to do things for themselves.

"I'm Blaine." He smiled warmly as Elizabeth gracefully sat down on the floor. "How can I help you?"

"I've heard about you." She sized him up in one haughty look. "For years. The boy that sees the dead. A psychic able to help us, in whatever ways he can. I didn't want to come, but I fear I have no other choice."

Blaine nodded his understanding. "Why not? You've obviously been here for sometime. Most spirits are eager to finish their business and move on. Why have you stayed?"

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. "I stayed for my family. I'm sure you've it heard this before, but they needed me. Especially my son. I wanted to watch out for him. He's such a sensitive boy. Burt-my husband-didn't really know how to handle him. I knew Kurt was gay since he was three. Burt wasn't exactly thrilled or accepting. Then I got sick. They didn't really have a choice anymore."

The story touched several nerves. Blaine kept his thoughts to himself and let the woman continue.

"Kurt needed me. I learned that I could effect things." Elizabeth smiled. "Their emotions when I concentrated enough. I convinced my husband that he loved my son regardless of his sexuality."

He sucked in a breath. Experienced spirits could communicate through dreams and influence other's feelings. Blaine had found this out personally many times. The Warblers often showed him things, little snippets of their past lives, when he slept. Sometimes the more violent and traumatic spirits slipped through his dead friends' barrier. Those dreams haunted him. Blaine had woken up screaming on more than one occasion.

"I had to do it." Elizabeth narrowed her blue eyes. "I had to. For my son. He's-he's so lonely. Not as much as he used to be, but still. Kurt would lay under my dresser and call for me after a terrible day at school. Burt had a bottle of my old perfume in there, so I spilled it. Kurt smelled it and talked to me. He still does whenever things get too hard."

"So you're here for him." Blaine wrote down everything Elizabeth told him.

"Yes." She sighed. "Burt has accepted him on his own. Loves him without me influencing him anymore. But Kurt needs your help. There have always been bullies-he's the only out kid at his school-but this-football player. It's gotten out of hand."

Blaine's hand froze when she mentioned the bully. Dalton had become a silent, somber sanctuary. One he cherished and hated at the same time. The Sadie Hawkins dance had ended violently and tragically, revealing the presence of spirits to him after Nick had been murdered by the football team. Blaine still had nightmares about that terrible night two years ago. Nick had stayed by his side through it, though Blaine had never really accepted his companionship until Wes' convinced him to. The dark haired teen journeyed with him to Dalton and remained a loyal friend, joining the Warblers once they realized he constantly loitered.

"Kurt is so strong and brave, but Karofsky terrifies him." Elizabeth glowered with rage. "I've tried to help as best I could. I even convinced Rachel Berry to say something to the Glee Club! Do you have any idea how disturbing that girl's dreams are? She dreams about her own funeral!"

"Is she a cutter?" Blaine paused his writing. "Sometimes people really do want to die."

"Don't be ridiculous. Rachel dreams about her funeral because she thinks no one really appreciates her. It's narcissism at its finest. I have to give her credit. She did try to help Kurt, and the boys in Glee Club tried to confront Karofsky on my son's behalf. The boy never got in trouble. No one caught him in the act, and his harassment has gotten worse. Kurt is too terrified to tell anyone just how horrifying it's become. This boy-Karofsky-threatened to kill my child!"

The lightbulb in the ceiling exploded. Blaine cried out in surprise and covered his head in fear. Wes ran through the wall, grabbing Elizabeth by her shaking arm.

"No violence!" The Asian teen hissed as Blaine whimpered in fear. "Get out!"

"You have to help him!" Elizabeth screamed. "Kurt Hummel! One three five oh five Pace Street, Lima!"

A lamp crashed to the floor. Blaine curled up on his bed, trying to escape her wrath. David, Trent, and Nick appeared and began to wrestle with the ghost. She fought them and screamed with fury. The windows rattled. Books flew off the desk. A chair broke in half.

"Get out!" Wes hollered. "Get out!"

"Leave!" Nick flung his wrist and Elizabeth screeched. "Don't touch him!"

Elizabeth escaped from their grips and bolted out the window, flying away into the night. Blaine wiped tears away from his eyes. Wes and Nick peered down at their friend, concerned.

"She's gone." Nick laid down beside Blaine, wrapping his nonexistent limbs around him. "She's gone away."

"I don't want to see her again." Blaine trembled, wishing Nick could really hold onto him instead of merely projecting comfort. "Why are all of the older spirits so violent?"

"They're frustrated." Wes gently ruffled his hair. "You know that."

"I'm tired." Blaine yanked the comforter over his shivering body and sobbed.

"Are you going to help him?" Nick softly prodded, turning off the lights with a simple wave of his hand.

"I'll see." Blaine nodded. "Yes. I can't really let this one go, can I?"

"He's just like us." Nick agreed. "Go to sleep. I'll take you on a date. Where would you like to go?"

"Broadway," Blaine smiled, "dinner and the theater. I think I'd like to see RENT again."

"I'll sing you a song," Wes offered, "Teenage Dream."

The Warblers started the opening lines in perfect harmony. Blaine hummed along to their wonderful a cappella, wondering if he'd ever find someone to love him that wasn't dead.

Bright city lights and towering skyscrapers stretched across the skyline. Traffic buzzed beneath the rotating restaurant. Servers hurried through the crowded dining room, expertly jotting down drink orders and bringing out tasty appetizers that cost a small fortune. Nick smiled as he poured a glass of white wine and poked at a dainty tofu dish.

"Isn't the food fabulous?" The brunette rubbed his fingers across Blaine's.

"It's fantastic." Blaine stared at the orchestra approaching their table. "Isn't this a little over the top?"

"Of course not." Nick waved a violinist over and whispered something into his ear.

Blaine blushed when the band started to play _Canon in D. _The familiar melody bounced off the large glass windows. The patrons quieted down, their attention suddenly focused on the two boys holding hands. Nick gracefully stood, gently tugging Blaine onto his feet and pulling him into his arms.

Nick leaned forward, his hot breath hitting Blaine's neck. "Dance with me."

"I'll never say no to that." Blaine laughed and spun on his heels, grateful for all of the dance lessons.

The music continued and the crowd became mesmerized by the young couple twirling around the perfect white tables. Blaine giggled when Nick spun him and released his hand, expecting him to quickly return to the waiting arms. An attractive piano player caught his eye. Blaine stumbled as he saw porcelain skin and blue eyes staring back at him, confusion dominating the beautiful boy's fair features. The pianist hit a wrong note. The restaurant's white lights abruptly darkened and faded into a long hallway.

Rows of metal lockers filled the edges of Blaine's vision. Students with backpacks pushed through the crowd. The boy with porcelain skin stumbled as a bigger, leering boy in a red and white letterman jacket shoved him into the unforgiving metal. A loud bang replaced the music. No one turned around or even seemed to notice when the jock began to stroke the smaller boy's chest.

"I don't want you anywhere near me." Porcelain's voice cracked with fear.

The command did not deter the other boy. A small wedding cake topper rested atop Porcelain's binders. Blaine watched as the jock leaned forward, snaking his chubby fingers around the figurine.

"Can I have this?" The bigger teen did not wait for an answer, opting to pocket the topper without permission.

Porcelain stood there numbly, lips trembling while the jock lumbered down the hall. The bell rang and students scattered like rats surprised by a spoiled house cat. A curly haired teacher wearing an out dated sweater vest turned down the hallway, frowning as he spotted the trembling boy.

"Kurt?" The man slowly approached the petrified pianist. "Are you all right?"

Kurt jumped at the man's voice, forcefully shaking his head and biting his bottom lip. "No. No, I'm not. Mr. Schuester-I-I need to tell you something."

"Let's go into my office." Schuester offered a thin smile, clearly unsurprised by his student's statement.

Kurt nodded. Blaine followed the pair down the hallway, pausing mid-step as a deep voice bellowed through the twisting corridors.

"You tell anyone, and I'll kill you!"

Spinning on his heels, Kurt turned and ran away from Mr. Schuester. The jock chased after the fair skinned boy. Blaine was breathless by the time he caught up to them in an empty science classroom. The solar system hung above their heads. Blaine found Kurt laying on a desk, crying as his tormentor pulled his undershirt out of his pants.

"Please, stop." The smaller boy struggled, pleading with the jock. "Karofsky, I don't want this."

Karofsky stopped his wandering hands, breaths coming in short gasps. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-I'm sorry. Please don't tell! I'll stop. I won't slushy you anymore!"

Kurt gasped when the older boy ran out of the classroom. Blaine frowned at the pair, not understanding their dynamic. Kurt collapsed back onto the hard wooden table, clearly relieved his assailant had stopped the unwanted advances. Tears leaked from his blue eyes.

"I quit." Kurt looked directly at Blaine, desperate for a sympathetic ear. "I quit. I quit. I couldn't handle it, being in Glee Club with Karofsky!"

The smaller boy launched off the desk and flung himself into Blaine's arms. He didn't expect the move.

"I want to quit." Kurt cried into his shoulder. "But I can't. Karofsky won't let me. Please, Mom, tell me what I should do!"

The classroom began to fade away, morphing back into the spinning restaurant. Blaine screamed as he spotted Elizabeth Hummel standing behind the hostess station.

"Do something." The ghost gripped his face, raking her long nails against Blaine's left arm.

The dream ended with Blaine rocketing out of bed, blood erupting from his sliced forearm. Nick and Wes followed him into the bathroom.

"I couldn't stop her." Nick apologized to Blaine as he frantically yanked out his first aid kit.

"Oh god." Blaine's stomach lurched. Blood oozed onto the tiled floor.

"You're going to need stitches." David motioned to Wes. "Get someone's attention!"

"Bad spirits." Blaine muttered as the blood loss started to effect his thinking. "Bad spirits hurt."

Someone knocked on the bedroom door.

"Blaine?" Thad's muffled voice distracted him from the burgeoning pain. "Blaine, are you in there?"

Blaine tried to respond to the Warbler, but he felt strangely dizzy. The tile was cool and refreshing against his cheek. Thad entered the room with a floor manager hot on his heels.

"Oh my god!" The dark haired teen blanched.

"Look at all of this blood!" Roger Heart stared at the smashed lamp and scattered glass covering the dorm room. "He must have sliced himself on that lamp. Call nine-one-one!"

Other students began to drift into the hallway despite the late hour, whispering about ghosts and cursed rooms.

"I'd never sleep in that room!" Walter Reed announced as paramedics arrived, hauling heavy equipment down the halls.

"David's ghost finally got him!" Freddy Yunker shook his head. "No way am I ever setting foot in that place again!"

Blaine could hear their whispers as he gripped Wes' hand tightly. The stretcher traveled down the hallway with every dead Warbler on its heels. Nick sat on the end of the gurney, determined to shield his friend from the spirit standing near the elevators. Elizabeth Hummel hissed at the other ghosts.

"Say his name!" Lights flickered dangerously, causing several innocent bystanders to shiver in fear.

Some people were extremely sensitive to the presence of spirits. While only a handful of psychics could actually see and interact with the dead, many intuitive individuals often felt them lingering nearby. Blaine closed his eyes and clutched Wes' hands, wanting one of the living students to offer him some genuine comfort. They never did. Thad awkwardly trailed behind the stretcher, unsure how to handle Blaine's longing looks. Maybe the senior finally felt slightly guilty for convincing the real Warblers that they couldn't afford to have a controversial singer within their ranks since competition season had just started. Blaine had not even really wanted a solo. All he needed was to be a part of something real, but Thad and his council had denied him the chance.

"Say my son's name!" Elizabeth's eyes began to turn red, growing furious with anger.

"Kurt." Blaine whispered to her, fright tainting his voice. "Kurt Hummel."

"What?" Thad tilted his dark head towards the injured teen. "What did you say?"

"Kurt Hummel." He repeated and looked into Wes' worried eyes for reassurance. "Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel."

"How do you know him?" Thad peered at him, obviously familiar with the name. "I'm pretty sure he's the reason we lost sectionals. Singing _Don't Cry for Me Argentina _like a pro. That range! It's too bad we don't have his kind of talent. Would you like me to call him?"

"No!" Blaine shook his head, praying Thad would ignore his incoherent babbling. "No! It hurts, Wes."

"I know." Wes clasped his hand around his bicep, unable to do anything more. "I'd heal it, if I could."

"None of us know how." Nick said mournfully, sorrow etched into every word. "We haven't been here long enough."

The paramedics silenced his throbbing pain with a needle, gently informing their patient that it was nothing more than a light sedative. Blaine couldn't answer the medic's questions about his parent's whereabouts. Paris or perhaps London this week. Grayson would know. The ambulance's engine started and sirens wailed, signaling an emergency to other drivers on the road. Thad climbed in the back with the head night guard, Mr. Scafani.

Hospitals were a beacon to the dead. Spirits searched for their lost loved ones, ran screaming through the halls, haunted morgues (though pathologists seemed oblivious to their presence), offered what comfort they could to dying children, and had epic temper tantrums. Blaine had learned the hard way to avoid hospitals at all costs. The ghosts sensed his psychic connection to them instantly and flocked to him like moths would to a single bright lightbulb on a dark porch. The Warblers kept them at bay, but he could hear their pleas to help and covered his ears with his hands.

"Leave me alone!" Blaine shouted to an empty hospital room, wanting nothing more than to succumb to sleep. "Leave me alone!"

The constant noise kept him awake until the nurse came around again. A brunette nurse named Carol smiled warmly at her sullen patient.

"It's late." She checked his blood pressure, frowning at the high numbers. "Sweetheart, is something wrong? You should have rang me."

"I can't sleep." Blaine confessed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "It's too loud."

"Well, I can certainly make you more comfortable. I'll give you something to help you sleep." Carol fiddled with syringes on a tray, eyeing the deserted room. "Would you like to wait for your parents to come back so you can say goodnight?"

"They're not here." Blaine heard her startled gasp at his bitter, lonely tone. "They're working."

"Oh, sweetheart." Her eyes began to well. "Would you like me to sit with you for a while? I'm going on break soon."

"Okay." Blaine smiled, grateful for a caring gesture, however brief it would be. "I'd like that."

The medicine began to take its effect as Carol sat down in a chair besides his bed, chatting about nothing really important. Nick hovered on the opposite side. Blaine blinked at the unreadable expression on his face. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear the guy was jealous. Blaine silently derided his ridiculous paranoia. Nick loved him; he wouldn't mind someone living comforting Blaine for a little while.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<br>**

A spotlight followed Blaine as he ran across the stage in exuberant enthusiasm, eager to please the crowd. Top forty music always won any congregation over. Belting out familiar notes to Train's _Hey, Soul Sister _had the young girls cheering wildly at the short boy running around on stage. Blaine loved preforming at King's Island. The Warblers backed him up, expertly following the music with their own unique voices.

"I'm so gangsta, I'm so thug!" Hopping on the balls of his feet, Blaine easily moved around the other boys on stage.

The crowd hollered for more, impressed by his agility. Nick smiled as Blaine winked at him. A nervous pair of blue eyes suddenly appeared, throwing him off mid-step. Kurt Hummel stood in the front row besides David. The brunette looked like he wanted to throw up. Blaine continued with the song, trying to ignore Kurt's unexpected presence.

Thunder boomed overhead, startling the audience and spooking the stage crew. Lightning flashed. Several young girls began screaming as zombies started to pick apart the crowd. The monsters began ripping into exposed flesh, eager for an easy meal. Yelling, Blaine turned to grab Nick's hand. The brunette reached for him as Kurt shrieked for help. Nick's hand tightened around his, but he knew he couldn't leave Porcelain there alone.

"I'll save you." Kurt didn't resist the offer as Blaine curled his palm around shaking fingers.

Red and white letterman jackets adorned the zombie's grotesque flesh. Blaine led Kurt down the stairs leading to the stage, running away from the horrible monsters. Nick glared at Kurt. "This is all your fault. It's not supposed to happen like this."

"What?" The blue eyed boy frowned, clearly unable to comprehend the meaning behind Nick's words.

"We're supposed to finish the show, ride the ferris wheel, eat funnel cake until we puke, and then I'll win Blaine one of those huge stuffed animals!" Nick's grip tightened.

"So you've done this before?" Kurt panted, breathless from their run. "Been here before?"

"At least once a week." Blaine knew his answer would sound pathetic. "This-this was the best day of my life."

"You're not supposed to be here." Nick glowered, scaring Kurt into releasing Blaine's hand. "This is the only real date we ever had!"

A loud screech distracted Blaine from Nick's angry words. He froze as red eyes burned into his soul, signaling Elizabeth's arrival. The woman had dressed down, choosing clothing similar to others in the crowd. Reaching for Nick, she pulled him away from Blaine, disappearing under the stampeding feet.

"Nick!" Blaine shouted, fear grounding his feet. "Nick, come back! I need you! Don't leave me here!"

"Blaine!" Nick yelled, his voice muffled by the new distance. "Blaine! She's doing this!"

"It's all right." Blaine mumbled, trying to reassure Kurt. "I know a place where we can hide!"

The muddy earth vanished, changing to plain navy blue carpet and oak walls. Dalton had several study rooms and lounges located throughout the campus. Blaine ran into a nearby study, pulling Kurt behind him as he shut the door. The zombies followed, pounding on the walls outside.

"Help me push some furniture against the door!" Blaine headed for one of the long leather couches. "So they can't get in!"

"Okay." Kurt moved around to the other side of the sofa, using his long arms to push it across the floor. "It's Karofsky. He's everywhere!"

Blaine breathed deeply as the zombies moved onto another room, calling for brains. "He can't find us here."

Kurt stifled an oncoming sob. "I was going to quit, you know. I even complained to Mr. Schuester about him being in New Directions this week!"

"I'm sorry." Walking around the sofa, Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder. The other boy flinched. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts." Kurt's bright red top instantly shredded as tears began to fall from his expressive eyes.

Bruises of every color created a horrific mural on Kurt's pale skin. Blaine forced him to turn around, revealing more lesions on his chest. "What happened?"

"Karofsky." Kurt reached for a simple throw blanket, clutching it to his naked chest. "The football team, the basketball team. The hockey team. They push me into lockers. It hurts."

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I'm sorry. Singing always used to help me feel better when I was bullied. Want to sing a duet?"

"Sure." Kurt's tears began to dry. "What should we sing?"

"_Baby it's Cold Outside_." Blaine had sung it for a performance at King's Island last summer. "Do you know it?"

"Yes." Kurt waited for Blaine to begin the song.

He easily remembered the notes, opening strongly and smiling when Kurt took over the second verse. They spun and ran around the warm lounge. The light suddenly shifted, sending them into cold night air. Towering white lights surrounded a football field. A scoreboard flashed with digital numbers, indicating the home team was ahead. The crowd in the stands got to their feet as a quarterback bolted towards a goal with a football clutched under his arms.

"Titans!" The bleachers shook beneath stomping feet. "Titans!"

"Shit." Kurt gripped Blaine's hand, pointing at the field. "Finn's in danger!"

"Karofsky." Blaine noticed the lurching zombie purposely let a burly linebacker break through their defensive line.

"Finn!" Kurt shouted, his pleading cry unheard over the excited crowd. "Finn, look out!"

The quarterback went down with a hard, sickening _crunch_. Everyone gasped when a referee called time out and a tall female coach hurried onto the field. Finn didn't get up. Karofsky lumbered over, shoving the coach away from his next meal. "Brains!"

"This is my fault." Kurt sank back down to the metal seats, crying. "I could have stopped this from happening!"

"What do you mean?" Blaine sat beside the shaking boy. "You're not the one that let a linebacker through on purpose!"

"I should have just done what he wanted." Kurt shook his head, covering his face with gloved hands. "I could have lived with it!"

"Blaine!" Nick's dark eyes found his, clearly relieved that Blaine was unharmed. "Blaine!"

"Nick!" Blaine waved at his friend. "Nick, I'm up here! The zombies are coming!"

"Wait." Kurt tried to reach for him. "Wait, please don't leave me here!"

White blankets tangled around Blaine's flailing legs as he surfaced from the dream. Sunlight warmed his face. "Nick?"

"Right here." Cold, imaginary fingers found Blaine's hand. "I'm right here."

"Morning, slick!" Grayson leaned into his vision, frowning at the photograph resting on the bed. "Isn't that your friend? The one that died?"

Blaine blanched, quickly hiding the old picture under the white sheets. "What are you doing here?"

Grayson sighed. "It's good to see you too, bro. How you feeling?"

His arm throbbed with dull pain, indicating the mind numbing painkillers had worn off. "Not so hot."

"I've got your prescription right here." Grayson patted his black coat pocket, holding up a blue duffle bag. "The doctors are releasing you to my care for the next forty eight hours. I'd say you're in for a long weekend, since it's Thursday. That means you don't have to go back to school until Monday. That's awesome!"

Grayson's sudden willingness to take care of him was unusual. "Where's mom and dad? I don't have my phone with me."

"They're in Tokyo, remember?" Grayson motioned towards the nearby bathroom. "Why don't you freshen up, and then we'll head down to Lima. I'm taking full advantage of this awesome long weekend!"

Blaine glared at his older brother. "Because it's awesome that I hurt my arm, needed eight stitches, and had to spend the night in the hospital."

Rolling his green eyes, Grayson awkwardly patted him on his shoulder. "Come on, you know I didn't mean it like that. Besides, it's not like this is the first time you've managed to hurt yourself in a simple accident. You're such a klutz, Blaine!"

Blaine deflated, hating his brother's condescending tone. "I need to pee."

Grayson offered to help him dress, announcing he knew a fantastic restaurant in Lima they could have an early lunch at. Blaine refused his assistance and finally registered that they were not immediately heading for Columbus or Ohio State's sprawling campus.

"Why are we going to Lima?" He asked, carefully walking towards the restroom. "You live less than forty five minutes from Westerville."

"Selena's family lives in Lima." Grayson grinned at his girlfriend's name. "They offered to put you up for the next few days."

Blaine relieved his bladder and washed his hands in the sink. A toothbrush wrapped in plastic waited for him on the counter, a gift from his nurse. He thought about Carol's warmth, wishing he could stay with her over the weekend. "You're leaving me with complete strangers? Why can't I just stay at Dalton?"

"Blaine." Grayson called over the running water. "You sliced your forearm open, and no one at the school can figure out how you did it. That broken lamp had no blood on it. The administration is concerned about you."

The admission hit him in his stomach, and he doubled over the sink. "They think I did this on purpose?"

"They don't know what to think. Neither do I." Grayson shuffled through the blankets, probably searching for the photograph Blaine had slipped into his sweatpants. "Like I said earlier, this isn't exactly the first time you've hurt yourself on 'accident'."

Blaine thought about telling his brother the truth, but he knew it would just land him in a mental health institution. "I didn't cut myself. I didn't!

"Okay." Grayson sounded skeptical. "I'm not saying you did. Neither is the school. They simply said that they were worried about your health and that you've been caught skipping classes on three separate occasions, you skip meals-a lot, and you have some anti-social tendencies. That's what they said. I called mom and dad, and they asked me to spend the weekend with you."

"So you're ditching me to spend it with Selena instead, right?" Blaine accused, squeezing generic toothpaste onto the brush with unnecessary force.

"Did I say that?" Poking his head into the bathroom, Grayson watched him work the foaming toothbrush around his mouth. "I've contacted all of my professors and told them I had a family emergency. I have to go back to Columbus and take an exam tonight. My evening class gets over late, so I won't be back until morning. The Lopez's said they're happy to have you stay there. I'll come back in the morning with Selena, and we'll hang out. We can do whatever you want. How does that sound?"

Spitting the toothpaste into the porcelain sink, Blaine morosely watched the water run into the drain as he spoke. "I get to spend the night with people I don't know, in an unfamiliar town. It sounds awesome."

Grayson clenched his fists, impatiently tapping his foot. "Maybe if you actually had any friends, you wouldn't _have _to stay at my girlfriend's parent's house. I'm doing you a favor, you know. You could at least be grateful for it!"

Blaine flinched and resumed brushing his teeth, unable to defend his friendless existence. Sadness formed a large knot in his stomach as he silently dressed. Nick watched him, angry at Grayson for upsetting Blaine.

"You don't need him, Blaine." Nick gently placed his hand against Blaine's neck. "Don't worry, you won't be all alone in Lima."

"We'll go with you." Jeff reassured him, waving at the other Warblers. "We always watch your back."

"I believe this new development may work in our favor." Wes paced around the hospital room, stroking his chin in thought. "Kurt Hummel lives there."

"Your'e right!" Blaine had forgotten his newest case lived in the small town. "Maybe I can make it a productive trip, if nothing else?"

"What are you talking about?" Grayson poked at a single plant sitting on a rolling table next to Blaine's bed. "Who's Carol Hudson?"

The nurse must have purchased the plant at the gift shop downstairs. Blaine emerged from the bathroom refreshed and ready to tackle Kurt Hummel's problems. "She's a nurse. Give that to me."

Grayson shoved the pretty Orchid at his brother, prodding him to get a move on. "It's all yours. Let's go, I've got to sign you out, then we're set to go."

A heavy set orderly forced Blaine into a wheelchair, apparently thinking his legs had been sliced instead of his arm. The nurse's station waved goodbye to them as Grayson pushed him into an open elevator. His brother had signed the papers eagerly, ready to escape the confining and sterile walls. Blaine held the flower in his lap and read the note Carol had left for him: _I hope you feel better soon. _

The simple words touched his heart. It had been a long time since anyone except his teachers had shown that much affection towards him. Cradling the Orchid to his chest, Blaine ran his fingers along the delicate leaves. Carol had given him an actual gift. "Can we stop by the bookstore on the way there? I want to get a book."

"I don't see why not." Shrugging, Grayson eyed the potted plant. "Do they let you keep plants at Dalton?"

"I'm keeping it." Blaine announced defensively, afraid his brother would try to take it from him. "It was a gift."

"I know that." His brother kept pushing the wheelchair in silence.

David trotted steadily beside the chair. "I know all about Orchids. I can tell you how to take care of it."

"You shouldn't leave it in the car." Trent tilted his head down. "Direct sunlight will kill it."

"Okay." Blaine agreed, keeping his voice low so his brother wouldn't hear. "Thanks for the tips."

Grayson's Lexus came into sight once they passed the second long row of cars in the crowded parking lot. Blaine got out of the wheelchair, climbing up into the passenger seat without assistance. The heater whirred to life once the engine started. Grayson pushed the wheelchair back to the sidewalk, hurrying to get inside the warmer air. "It's freezing outside."

Blaine hadn't noticed the chilly winter temperatures. The weather rarely affected him anymore, since the ghosts constantly surrounded him. They brought slightly colder air with them. He'd grown accustomed to it through the last two years. Opening the driver's side door, Grayson climbed into his seat and floored the gas petal.

The radio clicked on. Coldplay's obnoxious lead singer belted out notes, grating on Blaine's nerves. David caught wind of his discomfort and turned the dial to an upbeat jazz station.

Glaring at the radio, Grayson turned it back to the original setting. "Why did it switch on its own?"

"Don't know." Blaine could barely contain his laughter, smiling as David messed with the knob again. "Maybe it's possessed."

"Stupid radio!" Grayson swore up a storm, fighting with David's invisible hands for control. "Why is it on jazz? I hate jazz!"

After several more minutes of fighting a losing battle, Grayson gave up and settled on jazz. "Stupid thing. At least it's not that far to Lima."

"Driver can't pick the music this time." David hung his long limbs over Grayson's shoulders, playfully fiddling with the automatic locks.

Blaine ended up falling asleep once David moved onto messing with the heater, which sent Grayson into a ballistic rage. His brother promised to send the defective vehicle back to the dealer during the entire trip. They arrived in Lima close to noon.

Selena's family lived in a spacious two story house in an upscale neighborhood named _Lima Heights. _A petite, thin Latina woman wearing jeans and a sweater waited for them in the driveway. Grayson parked the car in front of the garage, leaping out of the Lexus to hug his fiance's mother.

"Cristina!" His brother let her go, opening Blaine's door in one smooth movement. "This is my baby brother, Blaine."

Blaine shrank against the leather seat, refusing to meet her eyes. "Hello."

"It's good to meet you." Smiling warmly, Cristina motioned towards the house. "You're the only family member I have yet to meet. Your parents threw my daughter quite an engagement party."

"Oh." No one had told him about the party, and his parents certainly had not called or even visited when they had been only two hours away from Westerville. "I'm sure it was lovely."

The plant wiggled in his hands as he got out of the car, slowly trailing after Grayson into the house. Several boxes and two suitcases sat in the living room. Blaine stared at the familiar bags, apprehension crawling through his gut. "Grayson, why is all of my stuff here?"

Cristina paused her gushing over his brother, frowning at her uncertain guest. "He didn't tell you?"

"I didn't know how." Grayson awkwardly shuffled his feet. "Blaine, you can't go back to Dalton."

Blaine's breath hitched, emerging as shallow gasps. "Why not? I get good grades."

Grayson crossed his arms across his broad chest. "Blaine, you trashed your room. Destroying school property carries a harsh punishment. You've been expelled."

"What?" Blaine couldn't believe what he'd just heard, wanting to defend himself but knowing he never could. "I have to transfer?"

"Yes." Grayson sat down on the couch, motioning for Blaine to join him. "Dad-he wants you to stay here with Selena's family. They're willing to take you in-they're glad to have you. They have a daughter your age. Santana goes to McKinley High. You'll start school there on Monday."

"McKinley." Flopping down onto a white love seat, Blaine gripped his Orchid tightly. "That's a public school."

"I know." Grayson didn't attempt to join his younger brother on the other couch. "You don't have to worry, though. Santana's going to look out for you."

"It's a public school." Blaine repeated, panic rising to the surface of his whirling emotions. "They're sending me to a public school! After what happened at my last school?"

"Calm down." Grayson's eyes softened a little. "Blaine, I know St. Catherine's wasn't exactly a tolerant place for you, but that was a private school. McKinley has a no-harassment policy of its own. Dad tried getting you into another school like Dalton, but he's having a hard time finding one that will accept you, considering the circumstances. He's actively searching for a place, but until he finds one, you have to go to McKinley."

"You know what happens to gay kids at public schools in small towns." Blaine didn't even try to stop the tears falling from his eyes. "I don't want to go there."

He didn't mention Kurt or the ugly things he'd seen in his dreams, which only added to his terror. Grayson finally rose from the sofa and sat next to his crying brother.

"Dad's enrolling you in anger management classes. You're also going to see a therapist. Dad's demanding it."

"Grayson, I can't go to McKinley." Blaine pulled away from his brother's hands. "I watched my best friend die-I _saw _him, laying there on the pavement!"

"I don't know what else to tell you." Biting his bottom lip, Grayson sighed. "If you didn't want to leave Dalton, then maybe you should have thought about that _before _you trashed your dorm room."

Bolting off the couch, Blaine grabbed the Orchid and ran for the nearest bathroom. Cristina swore as he slammed the door shut, locking it so they couldn't enter.

Blaine's stomach rolled and he threw up into the toilet. Cristina called his name, worry evident in her sultry voice. Wes and Nick barreled through the closed door.

"It's alright." Crouching down, Nick hugged his quivering body. "We'll protect you."

"I won't let anything happen to you, Blaine." Wes placed his hand on Blaine's dark hair. "I swear it. No one will touch you."

Their reassuring words calmed him down. "You promise?"

"I promise." Nick flushed the toilet with a wave of his hand. "Come on, Cristina's calling your name."

"Okay. I'll go out there." Blaine found what little courage he had left, picking himself up off the floor. "How do I look?"

Wes looked at him, his eyes traveling over his friend. "Terrible. I'm sure Mrs. Lopez won't mind."

Grabbing the doorknob, Blaine yanked it open and came face to face with Cristina Lopez. "I spilled some dirt on your floor. I'm sorry. I'll clean it up."

The Latina's lips pursed in disbelief. "It's fine. I'll get it in a minute. Why don't I show you to your room?"

"Sounds good." Blaine followed her out, refusing to look at his older brother. "When do I get to meet your daughter?"

Cristina flashed her white teeth, happy for a change in topic. "Santana will be home this evening. She has Glee Club immediately after school, then she practices with the Cheerios at four."

Santana was a cheerleader, which probably meant she had a fair amount of clout at McKinley. Maybe she could help Blaine avoid Kurt Hummel's bullies. "Did Grayson tell you that I'm gay?"

"Of course. It's not important to me." Cristina squeezed his shoulder, guiding him into a tidy guest room. "My husband is a doctor, after all. Now why don't you put some of your things away? Grayson is bringing up the rest of your stuff."

"Okay." Blaine sat down on the bed, wincing as he sank like a stone. "I'll wait for him."

Light green walls surrounded him, brightened by the afternoon sun. Nick joined him on the bed. "You'll get used to it."

Jeff perched on the windowsill, opening it with his long fingers. "Nice view of the park! Better than looking at other dorm room windows, right?"

Trent eyed the room with critical eyes. "Now that you're living in a house again, I can teach you how to make some fabulous cuisine."

Wes turned on the alarm clock radio. "Maybe we can find some decent music."

An old Duran Duran song started to play. Grayson arrived with Blaine's things a few minutes later, hauling them into the room. "Here you go. I've got to get back to Columbus, like I said, but I'll be back tomorrow. We'll do something together this weekend. Anything you like."

Blaine remained on the bed, staring morosely at his shoes. "Sure."

Shaking his head, Grayson left the guest room and pounded down the stairs. "See you later, bro!"

The music stopped and turned into commercials. David flipped through the stations, grinning when he found some oldies playing. Buddy Holly wailed out a familiar song. "Rave on, it's a crazy feeling, when you say, I love you!"

Blaine sang along, feeling slightly better when the Warblers joined in. Jeff had just began the last verse when he jumped down from the window. A dead bird crashed against the glass, flopping onto the floor.

"I swear, I didn't do it!" Jeff stared down at the dead animal.

Walking over to the bird, Blaine picked it up and looked out the window. Elizabeth Hummel stood at the edge of the park. A smirk graced her thin mouth. "Welcome to Lima, Blaine Anderson!"

Shrieking with fright, he shut the window and quickly drew the curtains across the glass. "Haven't you done enough?"

The soft bed wilted under his weight. Blaine crawled under the blankets, searching for Wes. The ghost understood the meaning behind his look, joining him beneath the covers. "She's outside. We'll keep you safe."

Quiet sobs filled the room. Cristina passed by her new charge, offering food and drink. Blaine feinted sleep, hoping she would just leave him alone. Mrs. Lopez quietly added some water to his Orchid and went back downstairs. Blaine didn't think he could ever sleep again, knowing Elizabeth waited for him outside.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 <strong>

The house stayed quiet until five thirty. Blaine sulked silently on his bed, unable to face Mrs. Lopez after his meltdown and too scared to venture outside. A door slammed shut as someone arrived at the house. Flicking on the bedroom light, Cristina slowly approached the miserable figure curled under her soft bedspread.

"Blaine." The Latina gently tapped him on the shoulder, imploring him to answer with her dark almond eyes. "I have dinner going in the kitchen. Perhaps you would like to join me? I could use some help setting the table."

Fiddling with the sheets underneath his hands, Blaine opened his eyes. "Okay."

"Excellent." Cristina pulled her hands away from his shoulders, regarding him for a long moment. "I know this must be hard for you, all of these changes, but please know that we consider you a member of our family now. You are welcome here."

"Thanks." Blaine didn't care if the one worded reply fell flat or that Mrs. Lopez probably knew it was nothing more than a false platitude. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Wonderful!" Noticing the closed curtains, Cristina detoured to the window and flung them open again. "It's a full moon tonight. A hunter's moon. I'm sure you'll enjoy the view from here."

He froze, afraid of the specter waiting for him in the park. "I'm sure I will."

Cristina left the room with a warm smile on her pretty face. Blaine could hear voices downstairs, discussing how their day went and laughing at one another's stories. Families were supposed to have dinner together. Listening to their muffled conversation, he tried to remember the last time he had actually enjoyed having dinner with his own family.

Memories flickered through his mind like an old black and white movie reel. Family dinners had been enjoyable when he was younger, long before he'd suspected he was gay. His parents had always doted on Grayson since he'd been their first child. Blaine desperately searched for any memorable dinner that didn't make him feel awkward for not measuring up to his father's high standards.

"You're such a dreamer, Blaine." His father's strained words came flooding back to him. "Always with your head in the clouds, always so caught up in those ridiculous music lessons your grandmother insists on paying for. Dreaming is fine, but you have got to start focusing on your future."

"I want to be a singer." Blaine had confessed to his dad on his thirteenth birthday. "Grandma says I'm good enough."

"Honey." Sighing, his mother had placed her thin hands upon his shoulders. "Your grandmother indulges you. Of course she says you're good-and I've heard you sing-you sing well. But singing professionally isn't really a practical career choice. You have some wonderful opportunities waiting for you in our companies. You need to focus on learning social skills, how to network, how to be confident."

"There are lots of people that want to be singers." His mother had continued, casually shoveling gourmet steak into her mouth. "Singers much better than you, who struggle to make it. You should have seen this boy I saw performing at Rose Warder's seventieth birthday party. Her grandson-I can't remember his name-could sing like a pro. He had twice the range you do! He hit a high F! Do you honestly think you could compete against someone like that, honey?"

Blaine remembered her words hitting him right in the heart, shattering his confidence with each new gentle dig. "No."

"We have no problem letting you continue your music lessons, or participating in choir if you like." His father had smiled, offering support in his own subtle manner. "But we're not supporting it as a career choice. You're becoming a man, Blaine. You're going to run one my companies someday-if not multiple ones. You need to focus on that more."

The dinner had ended in awkward silence. Blaine had finished his thirteenth birthday in tears. The bullying in school had just started to get worse, brought on by his inability to control his stupid body in the locker room. One of the jocks on the football team had noticed Blaine's hard on in the shower, even though he'd tried to hide it. They had teased him, called him names, and hit him with wet towels until his back burned. Blaine hadn't changed in the locker room since, grateful for the bathrooms close to the school's gym. He tried complaining to the P.E. Teacher, but Coach Redman had suggested he find somewhere else to change since he couldn't monitor the room at all times.

His friends had found out about the locker room incident from the school's extremely active rumor mill, realized that he probably liked boys, and quickly abandoned him. St. Catherine's had been a cesspool of snobbery, tradition, and blatant homophobia. Blaine suffered from constant harassment. Nick had it far worse since he'd been on the football team the previous two years. His teammates had found out he was gay on accident, catching him kissing a cute gardener at someone's summer pool party. They had been absolutely brutal towards the handsome athlete.

"Are you coming down to eat, or are you going to stare at the wallpaper all day, Bruce?" A young, slender Latina girl leaned against the doorframe. "My mom asked you to help her set the table almost a half hour ago."

"Right, I'm sorry." Pulling on a clean pair of socks, Blaine followed Santana into the hallway. "By the way, my name is Blaine, not Bruce."

Santana rolled her dark eyes. "Since I'm the one that has to babysit you here, I'm calling you Bruce-since no one likes you when you're angry. I'm just thrilled I get to spend the rest of the year attached to a hobbit with eyebrows triangular enough to make me hate triangles, and I love triangles-well I love prisms."

"I don't exactly want to be here either, you know." Meeting her annoyed glare, Blaine descended the stairs with the slim teen. "I didn't really mind Dalton, you know."

Cristina caught sight of them, eagerly waving at the pair to sit at the table. "Good of you to finally join us, Blaine. I'm sure you'll be on time in the future. You wouldn't want to disappoint your hosts."

Blaine blinked at her sincerity, unsure what to make of her comment. "I'll do my best."

"I hope so." Cristina eyed her daughter with a critical gaze. "Santana, I know you're trying to regain Coach Sylvester's trust, so I made you a light garden salad without dressing and I cut up some apple slices. I suggest you refrain from eating your father's favorite biscuits."

A blank, impassive look crossed Santana's dark features. "Sounds fine with me, Mom."

"I don't think she needs those apple slices." A tall, lean Latino man sporting a thin mustache entered the kitchen. "Especially since you had lunch at Breadstix this week."

Santana sighed, settling in her chair beside Blaine. "Guilty as charged. Brittany and Quinn talked me into it."

Slowly approaching Blaine, Juan Lopez sized up his new house guest and stiffly offered his hand. "Good to finally meet you, Blaine. I hope you'll like it here."

"Thank you." He took the man's hand, suddenly feeling completely inadequate under his scrutiny. "I appreciate your hospitality."

"Which you should." Juan sat at the head of the table, reaching for a plate of noodles. "When my wife asks you for help in the future, I expect you to follow her request. I won't have a rude houseguest staying with in my house."

"Yes, Sir." Blaine poked at the salad on his plate, wishing he could return to Dalton's familiar cafeteria. "I'd like a biscuit."

Cristina turned her dark eyes onto him, studying his figure. "Perhaps you should reconsider that."

Wes appeared at his side, glaring at the older woman. "Blaine, ignore her and take the biscuit. There's absolutely nothing wrong with your figure."

Gathering his courage, Blaine swallowed and met the Latina's eyes. "I'd like a biscuit."

Cristina clicked her tongue in disapproval, but remained silent as Juan passed the biscuits. Dinner continued through the hour and conversation casually switched from acceptable food choices to cheerleading to weekend festivities. Blaine picked at his plate, the joy of a home cooked meal diminished by Cristina's comments. Santana didn't seem bothered by the routine and easily laughed at her parent's wit.

He spoke when someone asked him a question or addressed him, but otherwise remained silent. The Lopez's were nice enough. Once Juan had finished eating, the older man headed into the living room with his wife on one arm and a beer can in his hand. Santana rose to collect the dishes. Blaine stood, helping her clear the table.

"Santana." Holding out his arm, Juan motioned for his daughter to join them in the living room. "Blaine will finish clearing the table."

Santana stopped what she was doing, turning to stare at her father in complete shock. "H-he doesn't even know where any of the plates go."

"I'm sure he can figure it out." Juan shrugged. "Aren't queers supposed to be good in the kitchen?"

A fork clattered onto a plate. Santana's hands shook a little as she picked it up again. "I wouldn't know. I'll help him finish tonight."

Juan let the matter go, choosing to sit on the plush leather sofa and turn on a basketball game. Blaine quickly made his way around the table, gathering up the dishes in a muted hurry. "Thank you. I thought-I thought they didn't care that I was gay."

Santana chuckled lowly, afraid her parents may hear. "What, were you expecting the Brady Bunch here? You clearly have never spent any significant amount of time around my sister, otherwise you'd know that they aren't exactly the most accepting people."

"If they have a problem with me, then why would they agree to put me up like this?" Blaine angrily flung a dish into the open dishwasher. "Grayson told them I was gay!"

"Easy there, Bruce." Santana rinsed off a dirty plate in the sink before she put it in the plastic rack near her long legs. "My father is a plastic surgeon. He started working on my sister when she was fifteen and perfected her when she was about nineteen. Selena's gorgeous now-she's always been gorgeous-but she hated her body, so my dad fixed it. She met your brother and fell in love. He's the perfect man in my parent's eyes. Rich, smart, and successful. They can't wait until they're married. My mother will gain a prominent place in society as an aging socialite, my father will have more patients, and Selena will finally win their approval. It's how it works here."

As the words began to sink in, Blaine stared at the running water. "Oh. So they're just using me."

"Pretty much." Santana shrugged, wiping the dining room table with a handful of paper towels. "Sucks, but it's not like you have much choice here, what with your She-Hulk tendencies."

They finished cleaning up the kitchen in silence. Blaine asked Mr. Lopez to be dismissed, grateful when the older man readily agreed. The Warblers waited for him in his room. He flopped onto his bed as David turned on the radio again, searching for any soothing music. Jeff had found an old board game of Clue in the closet and coaxed him into playing.

"Come on." Jeff prodded, flinging a red piece at Blaine. "I'll let you be Ms. Scarlet!"

"Blaine always gets to be misses Scarlet." Nick folded his legs and scooted closer. "Why can't I be Ms. Scarlet?"

"I want to be Professor Plum!" Wes announced, joining the other ghosts. "I bet he'd get a gavel if he were real."

"I want to be Ms. Scarlet." Blaine decided, rolling the dice to see which one of them got to go first. "Trent, where did you get that chessboard?"

"It was with the other games!" The plump ghost insisted. "David, want to play?"

"Sure." David cracked his ethereal knuckles. "Let's flip a coin to see who goes first."

"We don't have any coins." Trent complained, looking at Blaine for help. "Flip for us?"

Giggling, Blaine fished a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it for his friends. David called heads and won first move. Trent sighed when the black teen set up a King's Gambit, certain he'd lost before he even got the chance to play. Blaine listened to the radio and played several rounds of Clue throughout the night. When exhaustion started to pull him into a light sleep, he jerked awake and pinched his arm.

Twelve pairs of eyes settled on him. The Warblers had scattered around the spacious room and engaged in various games during the night. Blaine sheepishly looked at them, knowing he had to explain his sudden aversion to sleep. "I don't want to sleep tonight if I can help it."

Holding his hand, Nick graciously smiled at the other ghosts. "He's been having nightmares. Elizabeth Hummel won't leave him alone."

Wes' face darkened, anger burning his brown eyes. "Nick-Blaine-I know she's been-harassing you lately, but why didn't you tell me that she's been invading your dreams? They're supposed to be private!"

Blaine nodded, unsure how he should broach this touchy subject. "I-I've been with Nick in my dreams lately."

Wes' jerked violently, tensing as he shot off the bed. "Nick. Let me get this straight. You've been _dreaming _with Blaine, without the council's permission?"

"Blaine asked me to." Nick defended, backing away from the other ghost. "He wanted me to!"

"How long has this been going on?" Crouching down, Wes stared into Blaine's eyes. "How long, Blaine?"

"I kept having nightmares." Blaine admitted, regretting his stupid confession. "And I asked Nick if he could help. He said he could."

"Blaine." Wes sat across from him, crossing his legs. "There's a reason I told you to come to me about something like this. Nick is inexperienced-he has no idea what he's doing. There are things-bad things-that can get through our barriers we have put around you, to protect you. How long?"

"About a year." Blaine hung his head, ashamed he'd gone against Wes' rules. "Since Angelo."

"Damn." Wes turned his fiery gaze onto Nick. "Damn it! Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I never meant to hurt him." Nick kept a firm grip on Blaine's hand, afraid to let go. "I took him wherever he wanted to go!"

"You idiot!" David's fist collided with the radio, sending a bolt of electricity rocketing through the room. "We have rules for a reason!"

"What, what do you mean?" Blaine hadn't really thought too much about the council's formality, content with having someone to share his dreams with. "What's wrong with letting Nick into my dreams?"

"Blaine." Wes' gavel appeared in his hand. "I know you remember those first few weeks you started seeing ghosts, and how they would approach you, ask you for help. Sometimes they demanded it. You did your best to ignore them, until you encountered Angelo for the first time."

A vibrant, terrifying memory jolted his whirling thoughts. Angelo's mutilated face appeared at the top of Dalton's winding staircase. Blaine ignored the ghost as he hurried past, certain the apparition was nothing more than a figment of his mind.

"I want you to dig up a grave, boy." The ghost's thick Italian accent rattled his aching ears. "I need something inside it. Pay attention to me, Anderson!"

Yanking on Blaine's elbow, the ghost dressed in an expensive suit roughly shoved him down the stairs. "I know how to get someone's attention. I'm in other people's business."

Losing his footing on the wooden stairs, Blaine slipped and tumbled into several older students on their way to class. A sickening crack interrupted their easy smiles. "Angelo broke my arm. I don't understand what this has to do with anything now."

Wes clasped his hands around Blaine's biceps. "You know ghosts can influence the world around them, if they concentrate hard enough and learn how to manipulate inanimate objects. Dreams are harder to control, but some spirits can become experts at moving through a human subconscious. Blaine, you've been letting an inexperienced spirit into your mind. That in itself isn't necessarily a bad thing, but certain spirits are more than willing use this as a doorway-especially with such a powerful psychic like yourself."

Blaine's heart stopped beating for a brief second. "A doorway. For what, exactly?"

Wes pressed his lips into a grave frown. "To the living world. It doesn't happen often. It's rare for a spirit to be able to do it, but it has happened several times in the past. It's why other ghosts are flock to psychics."

"It's why we protect you, Blaine." David glared at Nick. "We don't want you to become a Knave."

"Knave?" Blaine hated how small and broken his stuttered response sounded. "What's a Knave, Wes?"

"A servant." Wes moved his hands to Blaine's forearm. "A servant to the ghosts. If a spirit tethers itself to you, gets control of your mind, then you'll lose yourself to it. Forever. When the spirit possessing you leaves your body of its own free will, another will take its place. If the first spirit doesn't leave your body on its own, it can live in your body, for however long it wants to."

The revelation sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through Blaine's body. "How does a spirit tether itself? How?"

David joined Wes on the carpet, grim and serious. "By consuming a psychic's blood."

"I didn't realize that Elizabeth Hummel had invaded your dreams, Blaine." Wes fixed his gaze on Nick once more. "I only felt her once she appeared in your room, intent on invading your mind. I had no idea she had already gotten through."

"Nick's unintentional transgression has put you in danger." Moving closer, David pushed Nick away from Blaine. "He's weakened your mind."

"You can't let him in again, Blaine." Wes informed him solemnly. "You can't, understand? We have to rebuild our defenses. Promise me you won't let Nick into your dreams again."

The severity of the situation brought tears to his eyes. It wasn't fair. He had never asked to be a psychic. Nick had been his only friend at St. Catherine's. He'd watched him die. The dreams were all they really had together. Blaine knew they could never have more, and now they could no longer share their dreams. Nick stared at the floor, nonplussed and regretful.

"I promise." Blaine whispered, clear and meaningfully.

Several Warblers murmured to one another out of earshot, apparently trying to decide what they should do next. David suggested sleep. Blanching, Blaine refused. "No. No way am I sleeping tonight. I'm going downstairs to see what's in the fridge. Alone!"

The command startled the ghosts into a strained silence. Blaine stood and quietly collected the board games strewn around the room. The only one he left out was the chess game, which Trent insisted wasn't finished yet. All of the others went back into the closet and neatly placed onto the top shelf.

No one protested his somber departure downstairs. Padding across the living room, Blaine calmly entered the dark kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. Tupperware and various containers of food lined the extremely clean shelves. Each one had a laminated black and white label on it. Blaine selected one with cake in it and quietly grabbed a fork out of the silverware drawer.

"Getting a midnight snack?" Santana's soft drawl startled him. "Shh, they'll hear you!"

Turning around, he found her sitting at the kitchen table eating a small stack of biscuits. "Looks like you're doing the same thing." Blaine smiled tentatively, hoping she wouldn't mind some company. "Can I join you?"

"Sure thing, Bruce." Santana flipped her long hair over her shoulders. "Just don't tell the Queen I'm stealing bread."

"I won't." Blaine sat across from her, digging into a piece of carrot cake. "I don't understand why she criticized you earlier. You're beautiful."

"Ah." She bit into a biscuit, chewing her food with her mouth open. "My mother thinks I'm second best to Selena, since she let dad work on her. I only let him do a boob job."

The casual tone surprised him. "What? You're only seventeen!"

"I know." Sticking her knife into a jar of butter, Santana laughed. "It's the only thing I wanted to change. He seemed satisfied. Dad's a perfectionist to the core."

"I'm sorry." Blaine had thought his own parents were bad. At least they never commented on his appearance or appetite. "Why are you carb-loading this time of night?"

"Why are you?" Santana eyed his disheveled pajamas. "Regretting your little temper tantrum now, Baggins?"

"More than you'll ever know." Blaine ate another piece of cake. "I can't sleep."

He didn't dare mention that he wouldn't sleep until his body demanded it. Santana took a swig of milk. "I've got a big game tomorrow. The championship game. Titans might actually win it, for the first time in like, forever. I'll be forming a beautiful pyramid and performing Thriller at the halftime show."

"Nervous?" Blaine watched in fascination as she spread butter on another biscuit. "Is that why you're defying your mother?"

"No." Santana angrily ripped the bread in half. "Not at all. I'm dealing with my problems right now. Our coach wants to shoot my best friend out of a cannon. A cannon! The jocks made peace with the Glee Club, but I'm pretty sure something isn't quite right there. Karofsky threatens to quit, then he's all sunshine and rainbows. Finn is now best buddies with that meathead. I'm pretty sure Hummel's dating the guy. I just need to figure out to use this information to my advantage."

The name made Blaine pause mid-bite, his fork hovering near his open mouth. "Hummel. Kurt Hummel?"

Santana raised a dark eyebrow. "That's the one. You know him?"

Blaine quickly shook his head, not wanting to draw attention to himself. "No. I know the name though-the choir at Dalton insisted he's the reason they lost."

"Possibly." She waved a hand in the air. "I think Karofsky is gay, but I can't get Hummel to fess up to macking on the guy. I'm pretty sure they're together. I need leverage if I'm going to win Prom Queen this year, and that would be perfect. I'd have the jock block in my court in a New York minute."

The Latina studied him, waiting for a response. Blaine thought back to Elizabeth's burning eyes and Kurt's terrified face. "This game, it's tomorrow, right?"

"That's what I said." She stuffed a third biscuit full of jelly. "I need an ally, but I can't rely on Brit without worrying about Karofsky's dirty little secret being spread around school faster than Lord Tubbington can eat a piece of cheese."

"I'll go with you to the game." Blaine couldn't believe his luck, living with someone that knew Kurt personally. "Introduce me to him. Kurt, I mean. Maybe I can find out if he's dating this Karofsky guy."

Santana's lips curled around her biscuit. "Of course. You're gay. Hummel's much more likely to dish out naughty details of his secret gay love to another gay!"

They finished their late night snacks and headed up to her elaborate room. Blaine eyed some of the strange decorations, confused by the combination of cats and cheerleading paraphernalia hanging on the walls. "What's with the cats?"

"I let Brit put some things up." Santana said fondly, fiddling with a stuffed kitten. "She has a thing for them."

Wes entered the room without warning. Blaine greeted the ghost with a small smile, hoping he could sleep in Santana's room. "Mind if I crash here tonight? That bed in my room sags like an old woman's boobs."

The Latina teen laughed. "Just this once. But if you tell anyone I let you sleep with me, I'll shave off your wedge-brows. Understood?"

Blaine laughed, happy to have a new friend. "Okay."

He fell into a fitful sleep, unable to fully relax. Nightmares plagued his dreams. Sometimes he saw Nick's head getting bashed in. Other times he could smell Elizabeths's perfume and feel her fingers gripping his heart so painfully it hurt to breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

Author Notes: Thank you to each and everyone of my reviewers:). I also appreciated all of the favorites and story alerts. Here's the next part.

A/N: Fixed the formatting issue. I'm not sure why it didn't work the first time? Anyways, sorry if I caused anyone a headache. I also fixed the part (again!) that is supposed to be indented.

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><p>The sky was a light pink color by the time Blaine crept across the hall, slipping back into his room unnoticed. Nick waited for him on the bed. The brunette had stayed there all night, unable to see Blaine or sleep anywhere in his proximity due to Wes' barrier. Blaine winced as the mattress sank under his weight.<br>"I'm sorry." Nick apologized, remaining at the foot of the bed. "I didn't know."

"I know." Tugging on the bandage wrapped around his arm, Blaine stared at the clothes in his closet. "I guess I'll have to sleep without you from now on."  
>"Yeah." Nick tensed, sensing Wes' presence. "He's coming."<p>

The brunette ghost shot off the bed, moving to stand near the open closet door. Wes entered the room, sending a hard glare at Nick. "Blaine, I think you should consider asking to go to your grandmother's house."  
>Blaine jumped, fingers gripping the rumpled comforter. "I haven't seen my grandmother since I was a baby. She hasn't spoken to my mother for years."<p>

"I know." Wes twisted the gavel in his hands. "I know your mother has estranged herself from her family. I think you should consider it."  
>"Why?" Blaine could barely even remember his grandmother. "Why do you think I should go there?"<br>A troubled, thoughtful frown appeared on Wes' face. "It's not right here. Not for you."  
>"Wes." Blaine sighed, hating the ghost's sudden evasiveness. "What's wrong?"<br>The doorknob turned, announcing someone's arrival. Juan Lopez opened the door and peered into the room. "Good morning, Blaine."  
>The older man walked inside, shutting the door behind him and eyeing his house guest.<br>"Morning." Blaine felt uncomfortable and small under Juan's towering stature. "I was getting ready to change."  
>"Mm." Juan shuffled to the window and sat in the rocking chair located in the corner. "I wanted to speak to you about something."<br>The crisp tone set him on edge. "About what?"

Juan gently used his large, booted feet to move the rocking chair back and forth. "I'm sure this has been quite the change for you, but I wanted to, I suppose you could say, make you an offer."  
>"An offer?" Blaine stared at Santana's father, unsure what the man wanted. "What kind of offer?"<br>"Something like a business deal." Juan's was careful with his words, obviously not wanting to upset his guest. "I'm looking to expand my clientele. I have good customers here in the area, but it can be challenging to compete against other surgeons in Columbus or around the country. I want a more refined client base, one that will ensure my future, and my family's future."  
>He had no idea how to handle the odd, confusing confession. "I don't really know any of my dad's clients."<br>"I know that." Juan's eyed him for a tense moment. "I want to work on you, Blaine. In exchange, I'm willing to-you could say-help you return to a school like Dalton, or perhaps find a better solution to your situation."

The soft, authoritative announcement made him jump. "I don't need-or want-any plastic surgery."  
>Standing up, Juan approached the bed and towered over him. "Are you sure about that, Blaine? Your chin is a little too chiseled, your nose too slightly too big for your face. I could make you gorgeous, Blaine. I could make you perfect."<br>Shying away from the man's imposing frame, Blaine shook his head. "No."  
>"Suit yourself." Juan turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. "Just remember that you are staying in my house. I can make your life a living hell, fag."<br>The quiet, casual slur hit Blaine like a slap in the face. Juan Lopez hurried out the door and left him alone without further harassment. Wes hurled his gavel at the wall, furious. "Blaine, don't listen to a word he says."  
>"I won't." Blaine didn't need or want Juan's approval. "I'm not his kid. I'm not going to let him bully me into getting plastic surgery just so he can expand his clientele."<p>

"Good." Jeff peered at him, a frown settling on his fair face. "Blaine, maybe you should leave like Wes said. You'd be safer at your grandmother's. I can't-I can't let you go through this-not like I did."  
>The blond ghost sat beside him on the bed, looking paler. Blaine stared at Jeff and waited, hoping he'd finally give him some details on his past. "Jeff, what are you talking about?"<br>Jeff shook his head, refusing to divulge his secrets. "I can't. I'm not ready yet."  
>Blaine watched with disappointment as the ghost faded before his eyes. "Wes, you want to clue me in here?"<br>"His secrets aren't for me to tell." Wes paced around the room, unusually anxious. "Jeff will talk when he's ready."  
>"Cristina's making breakfast." Trent poked his head through the wall. "She's making Huevos Rancheros."<br>"I'll head downstairs."

Blaine took his time picking out a suitable outfit for the day, determined to ignore Juan's threat. The man probably could make his life miserable in Lima. He didn't really feel all that intimidated by Mr. Lopez, certain the older man wouldn't risk his fathers' wrath. Granted, his dad might not care if Blaine hated it at the Lopez's house. Grayson definitely would care. His brother was often condescending and arrogant, but he had always looked out for him. The table was already empty when he finally made his way downstairs.

"Good morning!" Cristina's cold greeting left him with dread. "Did I not tell you that breakfast is served at six-fifteen?"  
>Slinking into a chair, Blaine nodded in defeat. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry I'm late."<br>Mrs. Lopez placed some vegetables into a tupperware container and pressed a label onto it. "I think you need to reconsider your priorities. Perhaps skipping breakfast will make you appreciate our hospitality, and entice you to be on time. I serve lunch precisely at noon. You have a therapy appointment at eight. Be sure to be on time!"

The older woman angrily dismissed him, clearly unhappy that he had disrespected her again. Blaine apologized and hurried back to his room. His stomach rumbled in protest, but he ignored the encroaching hunger. The laptop on the desk hummed to life after he pressed the power button. Browsing the local newspapers, it was easy to find information on West McKinley High School's winning football team. The Titans were favored to win the state championship, something that hadn't happened for years. He read through every article, fishing for information that could help him prepare for meeting Kurt Hummel.

A third, older article in the online news site revealed some crucial facts. Blaine focused his watering eyes on the paragraphs that stood out the most:

_The Titans overcame insurmountable odds thanks to Coach Beiste's clever plays. Earlier in the season, Quarterback Finn Hudson suffered a serious ACL injury to his right knee and is unable to play for the rest of the season. Coach Beiste had already lost her hand picked Quarterback Sam Evans to a shoulder injury a few weeks prior. The Coach reassembled her team and selected seasoned Defensive Tackle David Karofsky to be her new Quarterback, and he's lead the team to victory. David has used his new position for more than just playing football._  
><em>McKinley High has always had a problem with bullying. School administrators and teachers alike have tried to come up with solutions to the problem. It turns out that what they needed was an ambassador. David Karofsky is just the person for the job. Suspended earlier in the year for several bullying incidents, David has seen the error of his ways thanks to his high school girlfriend, Quinn Fabray.<em>

_"Quinn had a hard time last year and ended up being bullied after she got pregnant. The whole school sort of turned on her. Quinn's worked really hard to earn her place as team captain for the Cheerios and is friends with lots of different types of people. She dated Sam Evans for a little while, but they split up after Sam turned out to be gay. He ended up quitting the football team because a lot of the guys were harassing him. Quinn's really the one who started to campaign for change._

_She wanted to go out with me, but made me watch all of these videos about bullying first. I never knew how much it could affect people, you know? I never realized that I might really be hurting someone emotionally. So I started thinking about it. Quinn said we could do something about the bullying, and I really wanted to change. Be a better person. So we started the Bully Whips with the blessings of Coach Beiste, Coach Sylvester, and Principal Figgins."_

_David Karofsky and Quinn Fabray have really made a difference at McKinley High. The former bully of McKinley has made peace with his former victims, especially the students in the Glee Club. "I had to make things right with them, so I joined up after Finn got hurt. He couldn't go to Sectionals this year since he was in the hospital and scheduled for surgery. The Glee Club needed twelve members, so I joined. It took awhile, but eventually the kids started to trust me." David admits he has a softer side and actually loves singing with the other kids in show choir._

The rest of the article discussed David Karofsky's personal life and aspirations to play professional football after college. When Blaine finished reading, he scratched his head in utter confusion. Something wasn't right. Even though Elizabeth Hummel had terrified him into insomnia, she wouldn't show him her son's pain without reason. Blaine restlessly paged through more articles. He ended up cruising for any and all information about New Directions.  
>Eight O'Clock rolled around faster than he wanted, abruptly putting a stop to his research. Cristina hollered for him impatiently. "Blaine, we need to leave!"<p>

"I'm coming!" Blaine shut the laptop, running down the stairs so he'd be on time.  
>"I can see we're going to have to work on your tardiness." Cristina grabbed her keys, guiding Blaine towards the door that lead to the garage. "This is your third offense in a day and a half! When we get back, you can expect to clean the house."<br>Sighing, Blaine tuned out her long lecture about respect and consideration. He found himself respecting Santana a great deal. She had parents that made his own seem like the Brady Bunch. They may not understand him and his father frequently tried to "Straighten him out", but they didn't criticize his looks, deny him meals, or try to push plastic surgery on him. Being punctual had never been an issue for him before. Dalton had a strict schedule for classes and after school activities, but the cafeteria had looser policies and remained open for longer stretches of times.

The therapist's office was located in a private home. Cristina parked the car in the paved driveway, climbing out into the chilly winter morning. Blaine reluctantly got out and followed her onto the sidewalk. A sign hung on the front gate, an arrow pointing to the side office. Patients Please Use Other Door. He knocked softly and walked into the office. A tall, lanky black man with graying hair greeted them.  
>"Good morning." He shook Cristina's hand first. "I'm Doctor Sean Keener."<br>Blaine returned the hand shake, nervously tugging on the hem of his shirt. "Good morning."  
>Several pictures lined the shelves. A lot of them featured a smiling brunette girl with big teeth and shining dark eyes. Blaine poked around the office, exploring as Dr. Keener talked to Cristina. Other pictures showed the therapist smiling and holding hands with a white man wearing glasses. He zoned in on the photographs, surprised to find that his doctor was gay.<p>

"That's my partner." Dr. Keener suddenly appeared by his side, picking up another photograph of him, his partner, and the brunette girl. "Chris Berry. This is our daughter, Rachel. She's your age, and you'll be going to McKinley with her."  
>"You're gay." Blaine turned to face the older man, grateful that Cristina had already left. "Did my parents do this on purpose?"<p>

Dr. Keener smiled warmly, motioning for Blaine to sit on the couch across from a leather chair. "Actually, your mother especially wanted you to see me. She felt that you may be more willing to talk to someone who's a gay professional."  
>Blaine couldn't help but laugh at his mother's attempt of understanding. "You don't even get it, do you? She only passed me off to you so she wouldn't have to deal with me!"<p>

The black man didn't react to the outburst, choosing to pick up a pad of paper and a pen instead. "Is that what you think? She seemed very concerned about you when I spoke with her on the phone. Does she always make you angry?"  
>"Don't tell him squat." Trent strode into the office, sneering at Dr. Keener. "Did I tell you that I went through two years of therapy? My parents made me go through it after I tried to kill myself the first time. Don't talk to him, Blaine. He'll just twist your words around, make it look like you're crazy. You'll end up like I did, trapped in a mental ward like a dog."<br>Trent's persistent rant made Blaine reconsider saying anything more to Dr. Keener. "I'm not going to tell you how I feel. I don't even know you!"

"Well, we can get to know each other first if you like." Dr. Keener lifted up his pad of paper, holding up a familiar journal. "I find your diary quite interesting. Why don't you tell me about it?"  
>Blanching, Blaine shook his head. Damn. Someone had found it. The locked diary no longer had a lock on it. Traces of a small gold lock remained, though somebody had clearly broken the thing. "That's private."<p>

Dr. Keener offered him an understanding smile. "Blaine, it's alright. I can understand your reluctance to share your thoughts with me. First, I want to make it to clear that whatever you say to me is strictly confidential. I also want to acknowledge the fact that your parents know nothing about your diary. Grayson is the one that brought it to me. He discovered it in your room at Dalton when he was packing up your things."

"My parents don't know?" Blaine looked at the older man hopefully, knowing the book made him look crazy. "Really?"  
>"No." The Doctor opened the diary's cover. "Grayson heard them mention my name and brought it to me. He was concerned that you may be suicidal, and knew your father would overreact should he discover this. Grayson felt I should handle the matter as I see fit."<br>Blaine withered under his stare, knowing the guy probably thought he had some weird obsession with death. "I'm not suicidal."

"I know you aren't." Dr. Keener flipped to the first page. "I'm going to tell you why I know for certain you aren't. I have in front of me a page detailing how you personally helped a man's family recover their family heirlooms after their grandfather died."  
>Angelo had made him dig up the grave, insisting Blaine needed to give them the key to his safe deposit box so he could move on. The former mobster had died in prison and was unable to retrieve a rare diamond from the safe deposit box. Blaine shivered at the memory of digging up that grave for hours in the rain, scared witless of the furious specter standing at the top of his own resting place.<p>

"Yes, I found a note from their father buried in an old library book at Dalton." The lie came easily, the same one he'd told Angelo's family. "Then I found a key to his safe deposit box. All I did was return what was rightfully theirs."  
>"You didn't have to, Blaine." Dr. Keener offered him a sympathetic look. "You could have kept it for yourself. Tell me, how did helping Angelo's family make you feel?"<p>

The two hour session was an endless string of questions. After a while Blaine realized that he shouldn't have said anything about any of the families he'd helped, because Dr. Keener really didn't think he was suicidal. He thought Blaine had some kind of strange hero complex. At least that's what he gathered the man believed from his questions. The appointment ended right around eleven. Cristina arrived to pick him up.  
>As they drove away from the chic office, Blaine turned to Mrs. Lopez. "Could you take me by McKinley? I'd like to see the school I'll be attending before Monday."<p>

"I suppose so." She flipped the turn signal and took a hard right. "When we get home, your brother will be waiting for you. He wants to take you out. We'll discuss your chore list later."  
>Blaine pointedly turned towards the window, watching as the public high school came into sight. Students milled about the parking lot since the lunch period had just started. "Could we go inside?"<p>

"I don't see why not." Cristina pulled into a designated visitor's space out front. "You should see where you'll be going to school. "I'll walk you into the main office. Perhaps we can get your schedule and have a tour."  
>Nodding, he leapt from the vehicle and hurried after her into the school. A secretary smiled up at them and told them to wait. Quietly announcing his sudden need to pee, Blaine excused himself and ducked into the empty hallway. Elizabeth Hummel stood next to a row of lockers smoking a cigarette.<p>

"I see you're here." She snarled, stepping closer. "Come here, Blaine."  
>"No." Blaine turned, attempting to deter her efforts. "Wes!"<br>"I said come here!" Elizabeth stuck her left index finger out, making him stumble backwards. "You see? I've had my first taste, Blaine. Your friends can't stop me, not here. I've been here for years."

"Leave me alone!" The shouted protest went unheard. "What are you doing?"  
>Something tight and constricting wrapped itself around his waist, dragging him forward by force. Blaine struggled and fought the invisible tether. Wes appeared at the end of the hallway. "She's erected a barrier, Blaine. Just-do what she says. Go with her."<p>

"I own this school." Elizabeth said, brushing her hand against his face. "Come along, now."  
>Blaine's breaths quickened as she dragged him down several long hallways. Each minute he was trapped by her, he felt his body grow weaker and more lethargic. The rope bound him to her. They arrived at an empty classroom. Elizabeth shoved him inside. "Stay there, Blaine. Watch and learn!"<br>The ghost went to a closed closet, waving her hand to reveal two boys pressed against each other. Blaine stood frozen to the spot. A familiar brunette teen shivered as a bigger boy trailed kisses down his neck.

"Kurt." He whispered to the deserted classroom. It looked more like a storage room, now that he though about it. "And Karofsky."  
>"Shh." Elizabeth forced his mouth close. "Be quiet and watch."<p>

Karofsky's hands gripped Kurt's slender waist, trying to work their way under his shirt. Kurt's hands dug into the wall behind his back. Blaine could see his white knuckles and impassive face. He didn't look as if he were enjoying the make out session at all.

"Dave." Kurt forcefully pushed Karofsky's hands away from his way. "That's enough. My phone is buzzing. It's been ten minutes."  
>"God, already?" Karofsky licked Kurt's collarbone. "Fine, fine. You ready for our date tonight?"<br>Kurt looked as though he wanted throw up. "The only reason my father is even letting me out of the house tonight is because he thinks I'm going to Columbus with Mercedes' family. I'll meet you in the park, like we agreed."

"Yeah." Karofsky straightened his jacket and regarded Kurt for a moment. "Don't be late. See you later."  
>Blaine ducked behind the teacher's desk, hiding from the football player as he emerged from the closet. Karofsky excitedly whispered goodbye to Kurt and walked out of the room. A loud sob snapped Blaine's attention back to the closet, where Kurt had collapsed to the floor. Quiet cries resounded through the small space.<p>

"You see, Blaine?" Elizabeth furiously paced the room, fire in her blue eyes. "You see what this boy is doing to my son?"  
>A single florescent light bulb shattered, scattering across the floor. Blaine backed into the desk. "Please leave me alone."<br>"Fix this!" Elizabeth crouched down, painfully yanking on his dark curls. "Stop this date from happening, you understand?"  
>"Is someone out there?" Kurt's voice cracked as he shuffled out of the closet. "Hello?"<p>

Elizabeth's hand clamped down on Blaine's throat. "Don't say a word."  
>Kurt ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and wiped tears away from his eyes. The other boy caught his breath, cleaned his face up using a compact mirror, and silently stepped into the hallway. A false bravado dictated every step Kurt took. Elizabeth released his throat, sinking into the floor. "I never realized how exhausting this is!"<p>

Coughing, Blaine scrambled away from the ghost. His heavy arms and sore legs had trouble obeying his wishes. "Wes!"  
>"I'm right here." Wes glared at Elizabeth. "You're weaker than you realize."<p>

"Let's get you up." David and Trent reached for his arms, pulling him onto his feet. "Come on, shake it off."  
>Feeling slowly returned to his body, though he felt exhausted and found it difficult to keep his eyes open. Blaine gingerly walked out of the classroom. Delicate hands seized him by his jacket as soon as he reached the hall.<br>"What did you see?" Kurt Hummel's cold stare startled him. "Tell me, what did you see?"  
>Spluttering, Blaine opted for honesty. "I saw enough. You're dating David Karofsky, Quarterback of McKinley High."<p>

"We're not dating." Kurt hissed, frantically clutching at Blaine's jacket. "And you can't tell anyone what you saw, please."

"So you're not dating Karofsky." Blaine frowned. "But you want me to keep your non-relationship secret?"  
>Kurt's eyes started to water, tears threatening to fall. "Please. You can't tell. Please don't tell anyone."<br>"Hey." Blaine reached for Kurt's hand, gently removing it from his jacket and squeezing softly. "It's alright. I'm not going to tell anyone. My name's Blaine."  
>"Kurt." The blue eyed boy looked utterly relieved at the news. "Kurt Hummel."<p>

Kurt's hand felt incredibly soft and warm under Blaine's fingertips. "Want to tell me what that was in there? I don't know many guys that are as upset as you are after a make out session with a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend." Kurt repeated, swaying a little on his feet. "We're not dating. It's just a-a side fling."  
>Blaine heard the desperation in his voice, though he didn't know if Kurt was trying to convince himself or Blaine that he was still currently single. "Want to tell me about it?"<p>

Kurt hesitated. "I don't even know you."

Suddenly, he felt like he was channeling Dr. Keener. "Well. I'm new here at McKinley. I start Monday. I'll be at the game tonight. Why don't I give you my number? That way, if you do feel like talking, you can call me. Anytime."  
>Haphazardly pulling out his cellphone from a pocket, Blaine gave Kurt a reassuring smile. "Why don't you tell me what your number is?"<br>Kurt studied him, obviously surprised by the offer. "Okay. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Blaine kept a firm grip on his hand, loving the way the other boy reacted to his touch. No one had smiled like that at him since Nick had died. "Anything."  
>"Are you gay?" Kurt looked so hopeful, he couldn't possibly lie to protect himself.<br>"Yes." Blaine would have at least one ally at McKinley. "I am."  
>"Oh." Kurt's eyes lit up, happy he was no longer the only openly out gay student in high school. "That's-that's wonderful news!"<br>Jeff bolted down the hallway, loud footsteps following him. "They're looking for you!"  
>Kurt's head jerked at the ghost's voice. "Did you hear something?"<br>Frowning, Blaine dropped the teen's hand. "No. Nothing!"

"Blaine Anderson!" Cristina was out of breath and obviously distressed he'd vanished on her. "Where have you been?"  
>"I got lost." He quickly covered, silently pleading with Kurt to lie. "Fortunately, I found someone who was willing to help me out."<br>"Mr. Hummel." An aging Indian man in a cheap suit addressed Kurt. "Thank you for helping our newest student. In fact, I think this a perfect opportunity to talk to you about helping Mr. Anderson out when he arrives Monday. Would you please come to my office?"  
>"Okay." Kurt smiled, clearly pleased. "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Lopez."<p>

"And you as well, Kurt." Cristina glared at Blaine. "I have your schedule and locker number. We must be on our way, Blaine. Your brother is waiting."  
>Feeling extremely confident, he winked at Kurt and strode after his appointed guardian. Maybe McKinley High wouldn't be so bad after all. Blaine's grin remained on his face until he spotted a familiar figure lurking near the entrance of the school. Dave Karofsky sneered at him from a dark corner. Cristina began to complain about his lack of respect once again.<p>

"Oh my word!" Mrs. Lopez stared at the door of her vehicle, shocked by the nasty word scratched into the shiny red paint.  
>Three white letters taunted Blaine as he stood under the cold winter sun. F-A-G. Tears spilled from his eyes, reminding him that he would be in danger once more as soon as he set foot inside West McKinley High School.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Author Notes: Thank you to each and everyone of my reviewers:). I also appreciated all of the favorites and story alerts. Here's the next part.

Sorry for the wait, guys!

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><p>The ugly slur painted on a visitor's vehicle caused quite a stir at McKinley. Students milling about the courtyard heard Cristina Lopez hollering angry swears in Spanish at the top of her lungs, hurrying out to the parking lot so they could see what had set the Latina off. Blaine cringed, suddenly realizing what it meant to be standing there with her. The slur could only be aimed at him. It made him a target.<p>

Breathing became harder. Blaine sank down onto the cold asphalt, not caring he'd stain his pants or that people were starting to stare at him. Cristina swore loudly in Spanish and crouched down to help him up. "Come on, Blaine. I will take you home. I am going to make sure that your father, Principal Figgins, and the school board hear about this."

A small sob escaped from his quivering lips. Blaine couldn't go through this again, he just couldn't. "I want to go back to Dalton."  
>"You can't." Cristina ran a hand through his hair, gently guiding him into the SUV. "I'm sorry, but you have to stay here."<br>"Don't worry, Blaine." Nick appeared in the back seat, concerned. "It's alright."  
>Cristina hugged him tightly, soothingly rubbing his shaking back. "I will take you home."<br>"I'm sorry." Blaine whispered to her softly. "For being late. I'll try to be better about it."

Cristina's perfect brown eyebrow arched. "Late for what? Never mind, it's not important."  
>Blaine leaned against the window, curling into Nick's embrace. They arrived at the house less than fifteen minutes later. The engine shut off with a loud whine, announcing their presence. Grayson came out of the house. Selena smiled at them, faltering when she saw Blaine's tear stained cheeks and her mother's thin frown.<p>

"What's wrong?" Selena hugged Cristina warmly. "What happened?"  
>"There was an incident." Cristina informed them. "We went by the school to pick up Blaine's schedule."<p>

Grayson and Selena listened to the older woman's tale, staring at Blaine still sitting in the backseat. "I think I could use a nap."  
>The three adults didn't stop him as he frantically opened the door, nearly falling onto the icy sidewalk in his haste. They watched with sad and worried eyes, willingly letting him have his space because they could never to relate to his pain. He ran to his room and instantly pulled the blanket over his head.<p>

"I can't do this again." He sobbed to the ghosts milling about his room. "I can't."  
>"It's okay." David sat beside him. "You'll be fine. We'll be there on Monday."<br>"Where's Wes?" Blaine really only felt protected and safe when the Asian ghost was around, though he'd never admit it to the others. "Why isn't he here?"  
>"He's busy." David's dark eyes shifted slightly, avoiding his gaze. "He'll be back later."<p>

Blaine knew something was wrong, something the other ghosts weren't telling him. "Tell me why you want me to go to my grandmother's house. Please."  
>David hesitated. "Blaine, I think you ought to lay down. Maybe take a nap."<br>"Tell me!" He yanked the blanket off his head, staring at the black ghost. "Tell me!"  
>"Calm down." Nick walked into the room, joining David on the bed. "You'll be fine, I promise."<br>"Leave me alone!" He hissed at them, frustrated and upset. "Just go!"

Standing, David patted his knee. "We'll be there to protect you."  
>Blaine glared. "You couldn't protect me today, could you?"<p>

None of the Warblers responded to his anger, choosing instead to vanish from his eyes. They always ran away whenever he lashed out at them. The radio suddenly flared to life, classical music filling the room. It was David's doing. Blaine knew it was his way of reassuring him.

Flopping down onto the bed, he shook with tears. Loneliness and fear plagued him as he hid under the covers. Sleep started pulling him down into its clutches, his body unable to fight it any longer. The bedroom walls blurred and spun until he found himself standing in a locker room. Chapped lips crushed his lips. Startled, Blaine shrank against the lockers.

A door swung open. Someone gasped. "What the hell?"  
>Frantically spinning around, Karofsky lunged for the tall blond boy gaping by the door.<br>The cheap red metal rattled as their bodies collided. "Evans!"

"Stop!" Blaine leaped into the fray, trying to pry Dave away from Sam Evans. "Stop, let him go!"  
>Dave instinctively flung his arm back, accidentally hitting Blaine in the eye. Pain exploded behind his cheekbone. Sinking to the floor, he teared up and clutched at his face. "You hit me."<br>"Get off, Karofsky!" Sam angrily shoved him away. "Oh Jesus. You're bleeding."  
>"I think my nose is broken." Blaine whimpered, reeling in pain as Sam tried to assess his injury. "It hurts."<br>Dave glowered, towering over the pair. "Get out of here, Evans."

Sam returned the glare. "No way. I'm not leaving him."  
>"You hit me." Blaine's shock prevented him from seeing the other three boys step into the locker room. "You kissed me."<br>"What?" A heavy set black teen stared at the three boys in disbelief. "What's going on?"

Panic flared in Dave's dark eyes. "Evans kissed Hummel. They were going at it, in public!"  
>"Gross." A brunette boy sporting a mullet grimaced. "Fags."<br>Sam crowded Blaine, trying to shield him from the approaching bullies. "Back off. Come on, he didn't do anything."

The fact that Sam wasn't even attempting to defend his sexuality touched Blaine. No one should have to suffer because of him. "Leave us alone."  
>"Oh, hell no!" The black boy moved forward, violently pulling Sam away from Blaine. "We've got a sneaky gay on our team."<br>"Evans caught the gay." Karofsky crunched his knuckles. "I say it's time to take out the trash. What do you say, Azimio?"  
>"Sounds like a plan." Azimio grinned darkly. "There's trash everywhere."<p>

Lockers abruptly changed, spinning into white hospital walls. A freakishly tall brunette teenager lay in a narrow bed. The thick cast wrapped around his left leg had a plethora of signatures. Blaine stood at the end of the bed, tears flowing down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Finn. This is all my fault. I won't let any of you suffer for me any longer. I'm going to do it. I'll do what he says. Maybe it won't be so bad."  
>"What does he want you to do?" Sam demanded from the doorway. "Tell me."<p>

Blaine didn't even bother turning around to face his friend. "How did you know I was here?"  
>Sam shuffled into the room, holding out a coffee cup. "I know you wouldn't be anywhere else. What does Dave want you to do?"<br>Accepting the paper cup, Blaine downed half of it before answering. "Sam, you know better than anyone what he's capable of. Those rumors ended up turning half the school against you, and when Jacob published those photographs of you at your hotel, any chances of you maintaining your popularity were gone."

Sam smiled thinly, appreciating the irony of the situation. "I don't really care about being popular anymore. Losing your house will really help you sort out your priorities, you know? All I care about is graduating high school so I can get a full time job. My parents are broke, my mother is sick, and my dad is barely keeping it together. Don't do anything stupid because you feel obligated."  
>Not for the first time, he wished that Sam really was gay. "You're being bullied because of me. The whole club is suffering. Karofsky threatened Artie, Sam."<br>"And all they did was throw multiple slushies at him." Sam placed his broad hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I know you think he's responsible for what happened to Finn. He spent the whole game on the bench. It was an accident."

A part of him wanted to scream at his friend and spill everything about the illegal gambling ring. Blaine could tell him that their rival team's coach had rigged the game and paid Karofsky and Azimio to throw their latest playoff game so they would face them in the state championship. Sam probably wouldn't believe him. The guy had enough problems to worry about.  
>"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you." Karofsky's menacing words haunted him.<br>"I'm probably just overreacting." Blaine admitted, hating each lie tumbling from his mouth. "Karofsky did agree to Coach Beiste's idea of joining Glee Club."

The hospital disappeared and an empty classroom took its place. A pretty, petite blond girl loomed over him. "You did this to yourself, you know."  
>Blaine clutched his sheet music and shook his head. "I'm quitting, Quinn."<br>"You can't quit." Quinn's cold blue eyes sparkled. "You can't, don't you get it? For some unfathomable reason, he wants you. Dave is staying in the club, protecting you-and Sam-because we started the Bully Whips, and is planning on winning the championship game. You can't quit. If you do, you'll mess everything up for everyone!"

Blaine pushed her away, desperate to escape from her. "I hope you're happy, Quinn. I hope being crowned Prom Queen is worth all of this!"  
>"I saved you!" Quinn screeched, trailing after him. "I saved you from them! All of them! And this is how you want to repay me!"<br>"Blaine!" Grayson's persistent pestering violently yanked him out of the dream. "Blaine!"

Shooting upright, Blaine stared numbly at his older brother. "Yeah?"  
>"It's game time." Grayson frowned, feeling his forehead. "You're sweating. Must have been some dream."<br>"It's nothing." He dismissed. "Can I have a few minutes?"  
>"Sure." Smiling, Grayson backed out of the room. "We're leaving in twenty."<br>"Okay."

When the door closed, Blaine released a shaky breath. Kurt had invaded his dreams again. "Wes?"  
>The Asian ghost strode out of the closet. "Right here."<br>"Where did you go?" He knew it sounded whiny and more than a little needy. "I was looking for you."  
>"I know." Wes followed him into the bathroom. "Blaine, you aren't safe here in Lima."<br>"Because of Elizabeth?" He asked, shoving a toothbrush against his teeth. "Is that why?"  
>"It's a part of it." Wes narrowed his eyes, clearly troubled. "Elizabeth needs to taste your blood again, Blaine. Two more times. If she successfully does that, then there's no stopping her."<p>

"I'm trying to help her son." Blaine complained, spitting out toothpaste. "What more does she want?"  
>"Kurt Hummel is only part of the problem." Wes watched as he slipped on some shoes and a clean sweater. "There are other things we need to talk about."<br>"I asked you before." Blaine didn't want to hear about it at the moment. "And you didn't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it now. Wes, I've had a hard day. Right now, I have to go out and face the world, even though all I really want to do is sleep. Please, I can't handle this right now!"  
>Wes nodded, understanding shining in his dark eyes. "Fine. It can wait. But we're all going with you to the game."<p>

The ghost remained silent as Blaine finished getting ready for the football game. Everyone was downstairs waiting for him, bundled up in heavy winter coats and carrying blankets. Mr. Lopez offer him a graceful smile. "Glad to see you join us, Blaine."  
>"Should be a great time!" Grayson happily slapped him on the back. "You love football!"<br>"Yeah." He agreed with false cheer. "It'll be awesome."

Friendly banter and amicable conversation surrounded Blaine as he huddled in the backseat, wishing he could stay home. The football stadium was already packed with cars when they arrived. Everyone in Lima seemed to be in attendance, eagerly forming a line and steadily filing inside. Selena laughed merrily and gracefully leaned into Grayson's broad arm wrapped around her slender shoulders. Juan held Cristina's hand.  
>"Hope the Titans win." Elizabeth's cold drawl distracted Blaine. "Go Titans!"<p>

The ghost stood in line behind them, eying him ruefully. "I see you brought your friends. How long do you think you can protect him, Mr. Montgomery?"  
>Placing his hands on Blaine's shoulders, Wes guided him into the stadium. "Long enough for you to lose some of your power. I'm not letting you get another taste."<br>"I'm stronger now." Elizabeth followed the other Warblers, ignoring their hateful stares. "Even more powerful than before. I can easily separate you."  
>"We're in public." Nick insisted. "In the middle of a crowd."<br>"I'll be waiting." Elizabeth climbed up the bleachers and sat down across from Blaine. "You can't save him."

Trembling, Blaine pulled his scarf tight and stared at the floor. The bleachers quickly filled to capacity. Red and white dominated the clothing choices. He barely noticed when the game started. The cheerleaders moved fluidly in front of the audience, loudly shouting their slogans and getting the crowd excited. Blaine stayed glued to his seat throughout the game. Food and drink were offered, but he refused them, too afraid he'd have to go to the bathroom if he had any. Leaving the crowd would make him more vulnerable.

It wasn't until the stadium erupted into ear splitting cheers that he realized the Titans had won the game. Blaine hadn't even seen the halftime show since he'd been so preoccupied with Elizabeth's mocking comments. Once some of the excitement died down, the crowd started to file out of the stands. Santana appeared when they finally managed to reach the football field. Juan and Cristina began to gush over their daughter's perfect cheerleading performance.  
>"You were amazing, sweetheart." Cristina hugged Santana. "Are you coming home with us?"<br>"I enjoyed the game." Juan smiled. "You were beautiful."

Santana's smile seemed genuine. "Thanks, Dad. I think I'm going to Brittany's house tonight, if that's all right."  
>"Of course." Juan readily agreed. "You've worked so hard. You can have fun."<br>"As long as you take Blaine with you." Cristina interjected, giving her guest a hard look. "I'm sure he'd like to meet some new friends."

Blaine stared at Elizabeth, shivering as she casually paced around the goal posts. The Warblers formed a tight circle around him. They looked nervous, something he'd never really seen before. He probably needed to have that serious conversation with Wes once he was alone. Something was wrong. Really wrong.  
>"Fine." Santana huffed impatiently, irritated she would have to babysit him all night. "Let's go, Anderson."<p>

A beefy hand slipped into his, startling him out of his obsessive staring. "What are you doing?"  
>"It'll be good for you to go have some fun for a change." Grayson grinned and shoved another wad of cash into his hands. "I hear Santana is quite popular."<br>"Come on, stop stalling." Santana dragged him forward, pulling him towards the other cheerleaders. "I've come up with the perfect solution to our situation."  
>Once everyone was out of sight, Santana quickly confiscated the money in Blaine's hands. "There has to be at least a thousand dollars here!"<br>"Probably." He shrugged. "Grayson likes to show off."  
>"Look, I have plans with my best friend tonight." Santana handed him two hundred dollars, wistfully staring at a tall blond girl. "We really don't need a third wheel."<p>

"I'll go to the movies." Blaine had no intentions of tagging along, especially when he wasn't wanted. "Can I borrow your car?"  
>"Sure." Santana pressed the keys into his hand. "Go wild. Just make sure it's back by morning."<br>"Don't you have a curfew?" He eyed the keys skeptically. "They didn't say what time I should be back."  
>"No." Santana grinned. "I don't have one. All they care about is my status. Popular girls stay out late."<br>"Oh." Blaine watched as she hurried away, content to leave him standing there. "Right."

The field had nearly emptied out, so he headed towards the parking lot. Most of the cars were gone already. A Lincoln Navigator sat near the back. Blaine instantly recognized the slender, well dressed figure frowning at four flat tires. "Kurt?"  
>Kurt Hummel whirled around. "I only have one spare tire."<p>

"Did you call someone? A tow truck?" Blaine noticed the way his body trembled in the winter air, his black slacks and blue pea coat not enough to keep him warm. "You look cold."  
>"I'm going to be late." Kurt babbled insistently, absently chewing on one of his fingernails. "I'm not supposed to be late."<br>"For your date?" Blaine jingled the keys in his hands. "I could give you a ride somewhere, if you like."

Something was off about Kurt, but he couldn't say what exactly since they barely knew each other. He looked hopefully at Blaine. "I can't call my dad. I can't. Could you give me a ride?"  
>"Sure." Blaine guided him to Santana's Mustang. "Santana was nice enough to lend me her car."<br>"Thanks." Kurt smiled, though it seemed forced. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened earlier. To the car."

Blaine froze, trying not react to the casual comment. "It's not the first time it's happened."  
>"I don't think it will happen again." Kurt reassured him, eagerly climbing into the passenger seat. "The Bully Whips helped save me, you know."<br>"Right." He felt slightly unsettled, recalling the dream he'd had earlier. "Where would you like to go?"  
>"Bracken Park." Kurt pointed to his watch. "I'm really late now. I don't think we'll make the movie."<p>

"Kurt." Blaine fumbled with the heater, looking in the rearview mirror so he could stare at Wes and David. "You didn't sound very excited about your date earlier today. Why did you agree to go on it?"  
>"I have to." The words were forced and carried the same strain they had before. "I'm late."<p>

"Something is wrong." Sticking his hand over Kurt's head, David ran his fingers along the ceiling. "Not right here."  
>"What's wrong?" Blaine blurted, temporarily forgetting that Kurt could hear him.<p>

"What?" Kurt snapped his head towards him, blue eyes finally focusing. "What did you say?"  
>"I asked you what's wrong." Maybe he could get something tangible out of his new friend. "I can't understand why you're going on a date with Dave Karofsky, when it's abundantly clear that you would rather be anywhere else in the world."<p>

A long, tense silence filled the car. "No one says no to Dave, Blaine. Please turn left here."  
>Blaine flipped the blinker on and took a sharp turn. "That's not really answer. You can, you can tell me, you know. Trust me when I say that I can keep a secret or two."<p>

Kurt smiled, obviously grateful for the offer. "I don't want to go anywhere with him."  
>"Then why are letting me drive you there?" He wished the other boy would just tell him what was going on. Things would be so much easier that way. "We don't have to go there."<p>

Kurt looked tempted, but he shook his head. "The park is on the right, just ahead. Blaine, as much as I want to take you up on your offer-you seem nice-I can't. Dave might not be an ideal choice, and I might not want to be with him, but it's like I said. No one says no to Dave. If they do, they suffer the consequences."  
>"You mean like Sam Evans did?" Blaine had to get more answers. "I saw an article in the paper. It mentioned that he came out and had to quit."<br>"Sam's not gay, despite what the school thinks." Kurt bit his lip. "It's my fault he's been harassed. All he did was try to help me."

The park came into sight, revealing a hunched over figure sitting in a beat up pick up truck. "There he is. My Knight. Thanks for the ride, Blaine."  
>Blaine placed his hand over Kurt's, welcoming the instant warmth coursing through his body. "Don't go, Kurt. Stay here."<br>"I can't." Kurt began to unbuckle his seatbelt, then stopped. His hands shook. "I can't do this."

Without a word, Blaine pressed his foot down on the gas pedal and passed the park. "We'll go do something else."  
>"Oh God." Placing a hand over his mouth, Kurt rolled down the window. "Please pull over."<p>

He pulled over on the shoulder of the road and winced as Kurt flung the door open. "I'm going to be sick."  
>Kurt retched, throwing up his dinner and heaving into the bitter night air. Several cars passed by. None of them stopped. David leaned out of the back window.<p>

"You see? I knew something was wrong."  
>Wes met his questioning, confused look with an enigmatic smile. "All David did was help him vocalize his feelings."<p>

"Blaine, I don't feel so well." Kurt was pale and shaking. "I'm sick."  
>"I'll take you home." Blaine didn't know what was wrong, and he couldn't exactly grill his dead friends at the moment. "Where do you live?"<br>"I don't understand." Kurt miserably leaned his head against the window. "I felt fine earlier. Could you please take a right at the next light?"  
>"Sure." He reached for Kurt's hand again. "Sorry you're not feeling well."<br>"Thanks for giving me a ride home." Kurt looked down at his hand, smiling slightly. "You're hand is so much softer than Dave's. I think I'm going to break up with him."

"Maybe you should." Blaine peered curiously at him, wondering what had brought on the sudden and strange change of heart. "Which house is yours?"  
>"That one." Kurt pointed to a one story, light green house in the middle of a cul-de-sac. "My dad is home."<p>

Parking Santana's car on the street, Blaine hurried to the passenger side door and hooked an arm around Kurt's slim waist. "Let's get you inside."  
>Elizabeth watched them from afar, though she remained silent and subdued. It was an odd change. Kurt fumbled with the key, struggling to get the door open.<p>

"Dad?"  
>"Here, why don't you sit down?" Blaine guided Kurt towards the sofa. "Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"<br>"Yes." Kurt's face was flushed and he collapsed bonelessly against the fluffy couch cushions. "My dad might be sleeping."  
>"I'm right here, son." A burly bald-headed man wearing pajamas appeared in the hallway. "What's wrong? I thought you were going to spend the night with Mercedes. And who's your friend?"<p>

Blaine stiffly offered his hand, noting the older man's gaunt features and thin frame. "I'm Blaine Anderson. I'm a friend of Kurt's."  
>"He gave me a ride home." Kurt didn't even bother to look at his father. "I feel sick."<br>A firm, strong hand gripped his. "I'm Burt. Thanks for bringing him home."  
>"No problem. I was going to get him some water." Blaine went into the kitchen, eyeing the fridge. "He started feeling sick at the game."<p>

Burt nodded, sitting down on the sofa beside his son. "I'm not surprised, with how hard he's been pushing himself lately. Taking care of me, helping out at the garage, helping Carol with Finn. Feels like he's running a fever."  
>"I feel terrible." Kurt muttered, rolling onto his stomach. "Sleepy."<p>

Wes motioned towards Kurt, waving his hands at the pair. "Blaine, get a cold wash rag. I think there's some freshly squeezed juice in the fridge, some raw honey in the cabinets. It will help with his fever."

The listed ingredients were easy to find in the sizable kitchen. Blaine rummaged through the drawers. Burt covered his son with a blanket and tenderly stroked his forehead. "I know you're stretched too thin, Kurt. I'm sorry."  
>"Here." Blaine followed Wes' instructions and set down everything he needed on the coffee table. "This should help."<br>Kurt drank the juice greedily, ate several spoonfuls of honey, and didn't even taste the basil leaves Blaine had hidden in his drink. After several minutes he passed out on the couch.

"Thank you." Burt sagged, obviously exhausted. "I'm not very useful these days. Weak as a baby. Could you-would you mind staying here tonight?"  
>"Sure." Blaine could probably get permission from Grayson. "No problem. That's a wicked scar on your neck."<p>

Pink, ridged skin stuck out under Burt's exposed neck line despite the dim lighting. The older man grunted. "Yeah. Doctors had to repair my Aorta Artery. Had to put endovascular stent grafts in me. I've been out of commission for months."  
>"I'm sorry." Blaine smiled at him, wishing his own father was more like Burt. "It must be difficult."<br>"Yeah." Burt stood, swaying slightly on his feet. "It has been. Thanks for staying the night. Help yourself to anything you want, Blaine. Feel free to watch TV if you like. I'll get up in a few hours to check on you guys. I can at least do that."

"It's really not a problem." Blaine reassured him. "Honestly I don't mind. Kurt's a friend."  
>"He hasn't mentioned you." Burt shrugged, pausing as he headed down the hallway. "But he doesn't tell me much anymore these days. Goodnight."<br>"Goodnight."

The house groaned around him. David came up the stairs from the basement, holding out a small dropper bottle. "I think I know what's making Kurt so sick."  
>Wes paled. "Cowslip. He's being overdosed with it-practically poisoned."<br>Blaine whispered, afraid of waking Kurt. "What?"  
>"It's used in magic, Blaine." David thoughtfully stared at the bottle. "Usually in love spells."<br>"This is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier." Wes informed him, shaking his head. "Kurt isn't dating Dave Karofsky."

"He's bound to him." David frowned darkly. "A witch has him under her spell."  
>"A witch." Blaine had heard about magic and other supernatural things for the last two years, but he had never encountered an actual witch before. "Who is it?"<br>"Now that's what we have to figure out." Wes said gravely. "Before Elizabeth comes after you again."

"I don't get it." Blaine took the bottle from David. "Why would she still be after me? We stopped Kurt from going on his date!"  
>"Yes. That's not the problem." Wes sighed. "Elizabeth is bound to you now, Blaine. Whoever this witch is-she's a strong one. She sent Elizabeth after you, just like she bound Kurt to Dave."<p>

"Why?" Blaine had a feeling he really didn't want to know the answer. "Why would she do that?"  
>"That's the six million dollar question." Wes reached for Blaine's hand. "We have no idea why."<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Author Notes: Thank you to each and everyone of my reviewers:). I also appreciated all of the favorites and story alerts. Here's the next part.

For those that have asked, there will not be any non-con in this story beyond forced kissing/groping.

* * *

><p>As the hours ticked by, Blaine searched the entire house for any traces of magic. The Warblers offered pointers for his haphazard scavenger hunt and scoured every hiding place they could think of. Trent discovered several more bottles of cowslip, basil, and other herbs he identified. David sat thoughtfully on the love seat across from Kurt. Blaine watched as the black ghost studied the sleeping boy on the couch.<p>

"Someone has been giving him these things." Jeff pursed his lips, eyeing the living room warily. "It's got to be someone he knows and trusts."  
>"From the looks of things, he's friends with a lot of girls." Blaine chuckled, turning over a small pink animal sweater in his hands. "Which one do you think is the witch?"<br>"Could be anyone, really." Shrugging, Jeff looked over at Wes. "Doesn't necessarily have to be a woman. It's hard to say. I don't have the ability to really feel magic the way I used to."  
>Dropping the sweater to the floor, Blaine stared at the blond ghost in surprise. "You were a witch?"<p>

Jeff had to be the most evasive and mysterious ghost he'd met. The spirit had been wandering earth for decades, longer than any of the other Warblers, and yet he'd never revealed much about his past or why he stayed away from the other realm. Sometimes Blaine's curiosity got the better of him and he pestered his dead friends for details about the afterlife. None of them would really divulge many secrets.

Their answers were always vague and often confusing. Blaine knew very little about the spirit world once they moved on from Earth. The dead had told him of another realm, where many spirits ventured to when they died. Those that stayed behind needed and still wanted something from the living. Most spirits found what they were looking for and moved on, while others continued to roam Earth.

If Blaine asked them about God, they usually dodged the question. Wes had hinted once that not even the dead really knew the answer. A wise, peaceful spirit that lived in Westerville who was waiting for her husband to pass had once said no one needed a higher power since the other realm was nothing more than a different way of thinking. Blaine had contemplated killing himself to find out, but he could never quite find the courage to go through with suicide like Trent had. The ghosts always begged him not to anyways.

Depression had plagued him since he'd come out of the closet and learned that even good, wealthy families could be intolerant. Money could not erase years of religious prejudices or deeply homophobic, ignorant beliefs. Blaine longed for a family that accepted him. At least his parents had never forced him onto the streets. Sending him to Dalton was a form of kicking him out, but he had handled it just fine. The Lopez's were another way of avoiding his sexuality and the issues that came with it. During the last two years he'd learned he didn't really need his family anymore. The Warblers had replaced them in their own, unique way.

Clearing his non-existent throat, Jeff stiffly nodded. "Technically, I was a Warlock."  
>It made sense, now that he thought about it. Jeff had always known various details and facts about herbs, trinkets, and spiritual matters. Blaine stared at him. "You were a Warlock. Is that how you died?"<br>Jeff instantly tensed, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it, Blaine. I'm not ready."

The standard answer didn't surprise him. "Never mind, then. If I take away the cowslip and the charms we've found, will that release Kurt from being Dave's boyfriend?"  
>"It doesn't work like that, Blaine." Jeff hollowly swallowed, his pale fingers tapping repeatedly on his exposed forearm. "A binding this powerful has to be consensual. Kurt had to agree to it."<br>"So if it's consensual, then why is he so obviously scared and spiteful towards his own boyfriend?" Blaine didn't mean to raise his voice, but Kurt stirred and began to turn over.

David scratched his dark chin. "I'd guess that someone forced him into the binding."  
>"Can she do that?" He thought about the dreams, and how conflicting Kurt's emotions were throughout the scattered fragments of his waking life. "Why would he agree to something like this?"<p>

"Magic itself isn't bad." Jeff defended, obviously offended at his friend's cold tone. "It's the user that decides where to take it, Blaine. It's clear that Kurt doesn't want Dave Karofsky's advances or affection. However, he may not be aware that he is under the influence-so to speak-of magic. A clever witch-or warlock-could easily hide a binding spell. Even a powerful one. Or maybe whoever did the spell forced Kurt to partake in it against his will. Whatever the case, he needs to stay away from the cowslip."

A loud, bitter chuckle interrupted their intimate exchange. Elizabeth stood and approached them. Leaping onto his feet, Wes halted her advances. Blue-green light filled the room. She hit the barrier and hissed. Jeff smirked at her. "Stay away from him."  
>"So, little warlock." Elizabeth paced around inside the kitchen, angry to be contained in her former home. "It's been you all this time protecting him. And I was foolish enough to believe it was Montgomery."<p>

Blaine stared in complete shock, suddenly realizing that it had been Jeff guarding him all this time. "Stay away from me."  
>"Oh, you're all so incredibly stupid." Elizabeth glared, focusing her eyes on Blaine. "Sooner or later, I'll have another taste. I need another taste!"<br>Four wooden cabinets flew open and banged loudly in the kitchen. Several glass coffee mugs toppled out of them, shattering as they hit the tiled floor. Blaine shrieked and curled his knees to his chest. The chair rocked with his movements. "Leave me alone."

Jeff's muscles strained, but the barrier remained in place. "I've been here a long time, Elizabeth. You can't have him."  
>"Fools." She raged, flinging a pan across the room. "I need a taste, Blaine."<br>Shrinking into the chair, he covered his ears and whimpered in fear. "Please."  
>A cold hand touched his face. "Hey, it's all right."<p>

Blaine frantically sat up and looked directly into the crystal blue eyes of Kurt Hummel. "What?"  
>The kitchen remained intact, no dishes or glasses laying on the floor. Everything was as Burt had left it. Cold tears trickled down his face. Blaine wiped his eyes with his sleeve, realizing he'd been dreaming again. "Bad dream. Can I get you something?"<br>Kurt eyed him warily. "I'm sorry, but this is my house. What exactly are you doing here?"

"I gave you a ride home." He wondered if the magic affected Kurt's memory. "And your dad asked me stay over since you weren't feeling well."  
>The fire seemed to drain from Kurt's eyes. "I thought I dreamed that. Oh, I forgot to make sure my dad took his medications. I should go wake him up."<br>Blaine reached for his hand, stopping him from leaving the couch. "You're still warm. Your dad is fine. I saw him earlier. Here, you lay down and I'll make you some tea."  
>"Okay." Kurt smiled warmly at him, obviously not used to receiving much help. "Thank you."<br>"No problem."

Shuffling away from the living room, Blaine put on black kettle on the burner and raided the fridge. Several variations of salad and other healthy dishes stacked the shelves. He picked a shrimp salad out, placed some fruit on the side, and brought it to Kurt. "Here."  
>"Thanks." After the food disappeared from the plate and the water had boiled, Kurt wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders. "They're going to be mad I missed our date."<p>

"They?" Blaine tenderly sipped at the green tea, raising his bushy eyebrow. "Who's they?"  
>A loud bang interrupted their late night cap. The front door flew open and crashed against the wall, rattling photographs and unique art pieces hanging there.<br>Shrieking, Kurt shakily jumped to his feet. The blankets pooled around his feet. "I'm sorry!"  
>"Don't be." A slim blond girl wearing a green winter coat appeared in the doorway. Blaine instantly recognized her from his dream. Quinn. "This turned out better than we expected."<p>

An older, graying blond haired woman stood beside Quinn. "Blaine Anderson."  
>Dread filled his stomach and he backed away from the pair. The kitchen had a back door. Kurt trembled as Blaine grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the other exit. "Run!"<br>"I can't." Kurt forcefully shoved him away, pointing at the door. "You go!"  
>The brief distraction cost Blaine dearly. A familiar, hulking figure lurked in the kitchen. Dave Karofsky bounded across the room with determined grace and promptly grabbed Blaine by the waist. Crying out in confusion, he kicked at the large football player. "Let me go!"<br>"Stop it." Dave violently swung him into the wall. Blaine groaned as his head connected with a hard surface. Pain exploded behind his eyes. "Shit. Didn't mean to hurt him!"

The house grew quiet, heavy breathing and the smell of blood permeating the air. After several painful moments, Blaine realized the red stains on the floor were coming from a cut on his head. Kurt visibly shook and approached him with a plastic first aid kit clutched tightly in his hands.  
>"Leave it, Hummel." The older woman snarled, glaring at the countertenor. "He's easier to deal with this way. Get him out into the car."<br>"What about Kurt?" Quinn bit her perfect pink lip. "I can stay with him."

"Please." Kurt dropped the first aid kit. It clattered to the floor, the contents spilling everywhere. "Don't hurt him!"  
>"Shh." Quinn's mother pressed a gloved hand to Kurt's tear stained cheek. "None of that now. If you're good, we'll let you come see him. Quinn?"<br>Quinn started and wrung her hands, briefly meeting the woman's eyes. "Yes, Mom?"  
>"You stay here and keep an eye on Kurt. Understand?"<p>

"Yes." Quinn agreed, sorrow filling her pretty blue eyes. "Kurt, let's go into the living room."  
>"I hate you." Kurt hissed angrily, glaring at the uninvited guests. "I can understand why you're doing this to me. I can. But Blaine doesn't deserve this."<br>Dave stepped forward and gently caressed his pale cheek. Kurt shivered at the contact. "See you later, baby."  
>The gesture struck Blaine right in the stomach. It was familiar in an intimate, all encompassing way that he knew well. "Jesus. Nick."<br>"Yeah." Nick's dark eyes reflected strongly in Dave's face, focusing on him intently. "I figured some stuff out recently. Things that Wes never bothered to tell me. Or you, for that matter."

It hurt to think. Blaine whimpered as Nick lifted him off the floor, cradling him against his massive chest. "Traitor."  
>The accusation made Nick flinch slightly. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I really am. But I discovered a way to live again. Suicide does things to spirits. Makes them vulnerable. Just like harassment or bullying does. So many things can make people weaker-more susceptible to spirits. I found Dave by accident."<br>"Traitor." He panted, groaning when Nick placed him into the back seat of the car. "It hurts."

"I know." Quinn's mother turned around, peering at him owlishly. "It's necessary, Blaine. Dave, hurry along now."  
>"We're alone now." Nick complained, climbing into the passenger seat. "Why don't you call me by my real name, Judy?"<br>"Because, my dear, it's easier to stick to the habit." Judy shrugged, casually starting the engine. "I need to call you Dave, even when we're alone. One little slip up could give us away, you know."

"Right." Craning his neck, Nick regarded their prisoner in the back. "Blaine's here now. You promised to tell me when I could have Kurt once he was here!"  
>"So I did." Judy sighed, steering the SUV towards their lovely upper middle class home in Lima Heights. "Once Blaine becomes a Knave, we can preform the ritual on Kurt. Not before."<br>Nick ran a hand through Dave's hair in frustration. "And how long will that be?"  
>Judy clicked her tongue against pearly white teeth. "Ah. I knew you were going to ask that question. Elizabeth will benefit the most from tasting Blaine's blood when there's a full moon."<p>

"We just had one not that long ago." Nick complained, frowning. "Won't it be awhile?"  
>"Yes." Judy smiled coldly. "Blaine will be our guest until then. We have other uses of his unique abilities while he stays with us."<br>Fear and panic filled Blaine as he lay on the seat. "People will look for me, you know. My family."  
>The persistent headache and deep, painful throbbing in his arm made it difficult to think clearly. Judy laughed shrilly. "Oh, honey. You're so naive. Don't you think we've thought that through?"<p>

"Please." Blaine begged, not caring if he sounded weak or pathetic. "I just want to go home. My family will look for me."  
>His words did nothing to sway Judy Fabray. "Oh, I'm sure they will attempt to look initially. But we both know they won't really bother once they find a note in your room, declaring that you ran away from home."<p>

It hurt to admit it, even to himself, but he knew she was right. His parents would probably be relieved that they didn't have a troubled gay son to deal with anymore. Tears rolled down his cheeks, running into the drying blood on the side of his face. The vehicle stopped after a few minutes and Nick got out. Blaine could barely see, let alone try to escape the strong arms wrapped around his body.

A nice, warm house waited for them. Judy and Nick entered through the back door. The pair didn't want to draw any unwanted attention to the sobbing, twitching boy they hauled into the house. Nick carried him upstairs. A master bedroom and three other rooms were symmetrically spread out through the second level. Entering the second, seldom used guest room, Nick gently deposited Blaine onto a queen sized bed.  
>"This is where you'll be staying." Judy entered the room, carrying an ancient and thick book in her hands. "Scream all you like. No one will hear you. They don't even know this room exists. To them, all they will see is a closet. You can't leave, though I'm sure you'll try. I'll make sure you're fed and have your needs met."<p>

Nick plopped down into an over stuffed armchair in the corner. "Blaine, look at me."  
>Refusing to cooperate, Blaine shook his head and closed his eyes. The betrayal hurt more than anything he'd suffered through before. "Go to hell."<br>"There is no hell, Blaine." Nick sounded frustrated. "I bet Wes never told you that, did he?"

Wes hadn't been able to stop any of this from happening, but at least he had not brought him into the witches' trap. "Where are the Warblers?"  
>"Outside." Nick answered honestly, gesturing to the street. "They know you're here, but they won't be able to help you."<br>"How could you do this to me, Nick?" Blaine winced at the pain in his head, placing a hand on the oozing wound. "I thought you loved me!"  
>"Blaine." Nick got up from the chair and sat beside him on the bed. "Calm down. I'm sorry I hurt you. I really didn't mean to, but this body is much stronger and bigger than mine was. I-I know you hate me now. I'm sorry. I never really loved you. Not like you loved me. Not even when I was alive."<br>"What?" Misery seeped into Blaine's small voice. "What?"

"I was lonely, Blaine." Nick sighed and patted his shoulder. "I was lonely and the only out gay boy at St. Catherine's. You have to understand. I know you came out because you liked me. I didn't really want to date you, but you came out and were friendly to me when no one else would even speak to me."  
>"So you pitied me." The truth hurt more than the betrayal, more than his head wound. "Why did you stay with me all of this time, if you never really loved me? Why would you do that?"<p>

"What happened to us wasn't fair." Nick's dark eyes flashed, and Dave's face scrunched into a frown. "I was killed, you were beaten into unconsciousness, and none of our attackers were caught. I may not have loved you, but I did care about you. Please believe that. When I realized that you could see spirits, and the attack had triggered your psychic abilities, I knew you would need me. So I stayed. I didn't want to be dead, Blaine. I was only seventeen. If I couldn't be alive, then I'd find a way to make my killers pay. I wanted revenge. So I did some digging while Angelo harassed you and Wes took you under his wing. I found out their names."

The new information surprised him, but Blaine let him continue uninterrupted. A door opened and closed downstairs. Quinn and Judy argued, though he couldn't hear anything they were saying. Their attackers had never come forward and Blaine wasn't able to even name anyone since they had been wearing masks during their assault.

"It was easy. One of them went to McKinley High." Nick pointed at himself. "Dave Karofsky. He was at the dance because he took his younger cousin. The other boys roped him into it. He felt guilty afterwards. I made sure of it. I haunted his dreams and followed him whenever you were busy and didn't need me. Dave ended up trying to commit suicide over the summer. I was there when he did it. Turns out, when someone is in that kind of shape mentally and emotionally, their body is like a revolving door. I was able to pose as Dave whenever he felt downtrodden or sad. Wes and the others never suspected a thing, since I was doing it well away from you."

Suddenly, Blaine remembered his audition for the Warblers and how Nick had encouraged him to sing. It had been Nick that told him the Warblers disliked him because he was gay, that they would never understand what he had gone through. The other ghosts had always tried to push him towards the living. Blaine had been too afraid to reach out to anyone because he'd had Nick, and his friend had insisted no one at Dalton Academy liked him. "You made them reject me, didn't you?"

The accusation didn't phase Nick. "What?"  
>"The Warblers." He seethed, realizing that he had never been able to interact at Dalton with anyone because Nick had filled his head full of falsehoods. "You're the one that swayed them not to let me join!"<br>"Yes." Nick admitted, though he didn't exactly sound remorseful. "It was me. I called them while I was inside Dave's body and told them that you had a drug problem. I offered to give Thad a great deal if he hooked me up with the student body. You're fortunate Thad was kind enough not to turn you in, but then again he had his own issues with liquor."

"Oh God." Blaine had never felt so incredibly stupid in his entire life. "No wonder they hated me. They though I was a drug dealer!"  
>"I needed you to love me." Nick confessed. "Because your love for me was like a drug. It took me a while to understand how it worked, but I could only control Dave's body and live like a normal person when you depended on me. Your gifts are strongest and most powerful, have the most effect on spirits-when you are happy and in love. I needed you. We were connected while we were both alive, which makes our bond special. It's strong enough to tie me to you even after I died!"<p>

"What about other people?" Blaine questioned, understanding the implications. "Theoretically speaking, if I had befriended or even loved someone else at Dalton, would I have bonded so strongly with them?"  
>Nick nodded, tears pooling around the corners of his eyes. "Yes."<br>"You manipulated me." Blaine sobbed into his pillow. "So you could-sort of-live again. I hate you! Get out!"

The jock flinched, but gave into his friend's request. Nick stood and quietly left the room. Blaine cried until he fell asleep. It was silent and frightening without the Warblers around to keep him company. The sky was dark and moonless, signaling a new moon. In a few weeks he would be nothing more than a mere shell, serving his new masters in whatever way they saw fit.

Grayson stood in a familiar kitchen, worry drawn across his chiseled face. "Come on, Dad. He wouldn't run away."  
>Static and impatience crackled through the speaker. "The evidence seems pretty clear. This is just another attempt to get my attention!"<br>"Do you blame him?" Grayson hissed, uncharacteristically unhinged and angry. "He's practically been on his own since he came out!"  
>"I understand that you're upset." James Anderson spoke lowly and rage colored his deep baritone. "But I'm not even going to bother filing a police report. I'm sure Blaine will return to the Lopez's once he realizes I've closed his bank account and credit cards. He wants to be on his own, well then he will be!"<br>"Dad!" Grayson winced as a dial tone filled the kitchen. "You might not care about him, but I do!"

The Lopez's were nowhere in sight. Grayson climbed the steps and headed towards Blaine's bedroom. The lights remained off as he entered. His brother sat down on the empty bed, tears sliding down his face. "God, Blaine. I'm sorry. I should have been around more. Been more supportive."  
>"He was afraid of going back to public school." Santana stood in the doorway, her slim silhouette casting a long shadow. "He talks in his sleep."<br>"I know he was." Grayson let his future sister in law take a seat beside him. "I know he was."  
>Leaning against Santana's shoulder, Grayson doubled over and began to sob. Santana patted him awkwardly. "I'm sure he'll be back once he runs out of cash."<p>

"What are you doing in here?" Selena's cold voice disturbed their moment of comfort.  
>Santana jumped, quickly moving away from Grayson. "I was just offering him a shoulder to cry on."<br>"I'm sure that wasn't all you were offering." Selena spat, jealously evident in her high voice. "Isn't it your bed time?"  
>Grayson stared at his shoes, stiff and uncomfortable as his fiance sat down. "We weren't doing anything."<br>"I know." Selena offered him a fake smile. "I trust you. It's Santana I don't trust."

A loud clicking noise abruptly ended the dream, thrusting Blaine back into his prison. "What?"  
>The wall shimmered, revealing Quinn Fabray, who carried a tray of supplies in her trembling hands. "I came to heal you. I'm good at that."<br>"Leave me alone." Attempting to roll onto his side so he didn't have to face her, Blaine whimpered as a deep pain lanced through his head.  
>"I can help." Quinn set the tray down on a nearby nightstand and rummaged through the gauze. "I brought you some water."<p>

"Why are you doing this?" He choked out, hating the way her fingers felt against his throbbing skull. "I never did anything to you."  
>"I don't have a choice." Quinn gently probed the large gash in his head. "You've ruined my mother's pillow with all of that blood. I can get you a new one."<br>"I want to go home." He thought about Grayson, sorry he'd let Nick warp and twist his opinions so far off kilter, certain for the longest time that his brother had been just like his father. "My brother will look for me."

"Blaine." Quinn carefully unwrapped some white bandages and fetched ointment. "I wish I could take you home. But I can't. I'm-I belong to the Old Solace Coven. I was born into it."  
>"You could help if you wanted." He accused, furious that she had helped her mother bring him here. "You just choose not to."<br>Quinn dropped her head, a soft and melodic chant emerging from her petite mouth. The simple rhythmic words soothed Blaine instantly. It didn't matter that he wanted to scream or kick, because the magic had taken control. The flesh on his head began healing. New skin covered the wound, scabbing over. Quinn took advantage of his trance like state and tenderly wrapped white gauze around his head. The pain eased, but he still had a migraine.

"Feel better?" The blond asked once she had stopped chanting. "I can't really heal you all the way since you're such an unwilling participant, but I left you some pain killers on the tray besides the water and juice. I also brought you some crackers."

When he turned over, pointedly ignoring her, she merely sighed and left the room. The clock radio switched on. Static obscured the oldies station for several brief seconds, until a familiar voice began talking over Richie Valens upbeat song. "Blaine, can you hear me?"  
>Sitting up, Blaine winced as a sharp pain hit him right in the temple. "Wes?"<br>"I'm here." Wes sounded relieved, but worried. "We're all here."

"Listen." David ground out through wavering radio waves. "This is the only way we can communicate right now. But I have to work on how long I can control it."  
>"Blaine." Jeff interjected tersely, sounding extremely upset. "I'm sorry about Nick."<br>"It's not your fault." He said automatically, laying back down to ease his pain. "None of us knew."  
>"We can't speak long." Wes morosely informed him. "I just wanted to tell you that we'll find a way to get you out of there. I promise."<br>"Have courage, Blaine." Trent spoke out. "Courage."

"Hello?" Kurt's surprised greeting startled Blaine. "Who's there?"  
>"Kurt?" Blaine stared numbly at the radio, wondering if he was dreaming again. "Is that really you?"<br>"Blaine!" Kurt squealed. "I can hear you! I don't know how-but this old CB Radio started randomly clicking and switching through stations. Are you all right?"  
>"No." He admitted, grateful that he could talk to someone living for a while. "Kurt, has N-Dave done anything to you beyond kissing? Please, tell me if he has."<p>

"No." Kurt breathed heavily into the old fashioned microphone. "Actually, he's been very respectful about it. I mean, he's a little handsy. And he's making me date him, but he's never gone anywhere I don't want him to."

"The coven made you date him, didn't they?" Blaine could see some of the puzzle pieces falling into place, making perfect sense. "And they're the ones that hurt Finn. I'm willing to bet they're also the ones who had a hand in your father's poor health."  
>A long pause echoed across the radio. "Yes. Oh, I'm so sorry, Blaine. I didn't know they were planning on kidnapping you!"<br>"It's okay." Blaine pressed his ear to the pillow. "Kurt, why are they so interested in you?"

"Because." Kurt sniffed miserably. "My mother was head witch of the New Valley Coven. They've been at war with one another for centuries."  
>Of course Kurt had connections with the coven. "How long have you known about this?"<br>"A few months." Kurt sighed. "I found out about them when my father was in the hospital."  
>Exhaustion began to claim his mind, pulling him into an unwanted sleep. "Kurt?"<br>"Yes, Blaine?"

"I don't think I can stay awake much longer." Blaine tightened his grip on the comforter. "Will you sing to me?"  
>The opening notes of Across the Universe drifted through the small radio speakers. Blaine hummed along, slipping into a fitful sleep. At least he had one living friend on his side.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Author Notes: Thank you to each and everyone of my reviewers:). I also appreciated all of the favorites and story alerts. Here's the next part.

Additional warnings for this chapter: mentions of self-harm, suicide (among the spirits), blackmail.

* * *

><p><strong>Seven<strong>

A cold draft and dull daylight woke Blaine. Snowflakes descended from an overcast sky. A fresh blanket of snow covered the ground. The radio had been switched to a soft rock station sometime during the night, probably to help him sleep. Blaine pushed himself into a sitting position and moaned. The migraine instantly made itself known. Pain sliced through his sore, swollen head.

The radio played a weekly countdown of top hits. Blaine listened to the DJ announce several artists, their crowd pleasing songs, and heard a long stream of endless commercials. A need to relieve himself finally compelled him to try to move. It hurt when he rolled over, but he found that he could at least sit up. His head throbbed painfully as he pushed himself onto his feet. The room tilted and his knees wobbled terribly. Actually getting to the bathroom took a careful, well thought out balancing act using the wall and his sore arms.

Once he'd finished meeting his bladder's needs, Blaine slowly made his way back to bed. The radio switched on and off. He wished the ghosts would just leave him alone so he could sleep.  
>"Blaine?" Kurt's quiet whisper startled him from a light, tense doze. "Are you there?"<br>"Yes." He squeaked out, wishing the pain would go away. "Head hurts."  
>"Oh." Kurt sucked in a deep breath. "I'll call Quinn. Maybe she can do something for you."<p>

"So you're friends with her?" Blaine pressed his head further into the soft feather pillow. "Even though she's a rival-or-something?"  
>"Quinn isn't exactly doing this out of choice." Kurt sighed. "She'd rather be a more-normal-teenager. At the moment, she's the only one trying to help me."<br>"She yelled at you." He pondered all of his dreams, trying to gauge their relationship. "For screwing something up."  
>"How do you know about that?" Kurt pressed, confusion in his high voice. "I never told anyone about it."<br>"Dream." Blaine answered without thinking, realizing he'd have to explain. "I have dreams sometimes about people-people I'm interacting with a lot. I dreamed about you two."

"I see." Kurt replied coolly. "Quinn isn't responsible for this. Well, she wanted to regain her status at McKinley after what happened last year. So she cast a spell. It was meant to help her be Prom Queen, and to help the Glee Club find happiness. She knew I struggled when my dad got sick. How hard it was for us. I considered quitting New Directions for a while, especially once the bullying got worse. The witches realized that I had some-underlying talents-ones that I didn't even know about. Apparently they thought Finn had been born into magic, but that wasn't the case. They wanted to train me. I refused. At least at first. Then my dad got sick and Karofsky just wouldn't let up. When Finn got hurt, I just couldn't stand the thought of anyone suffering because of me. So I caved. I did what they wanted. I refused to let them train me. So they made me date Dave instead as some sort of punishment. Quinn's been helping through this the whole time. At least, she's tried. Managed to postpone my first so-called date with Dave for weeks on end before he realized anything was up."

"What do you mean?" He thought about Kurt's earlier comments about dating Dave. "Did Dave think you loved him because of Quinn?"  
>"No." Kurt admitted softly. "All Quinn did was try and make me happy. I figured dating him couldn't be all bad if he was willing to take things slowly. Quinn did a spell, one that distracted him for sometime. All the spell did was make him fall harder for me. She figured if he really loved me, then at least he'd take care of me. Judy is the one that figured out Quinn was trying to help me, and she lost it. We messed up their plans. Set them back somehow."<br>"Do you know why?" He really wanted to know, because Nick certainly had not shed any light in that area. "Why is it so important you date Dave?"  
>"Dave hasn't really told me much." Kurt's voice cracked. "At all. All I know is that on Prom Night, I have to sleep with him."<p>

The confession surprised Blaine into sitting upright. "What? I thought you said he hadn't forced anything on you."  
>"He hasn't." Kurt sounded like he was crying. "He's not allowed to, because he's waiting for Prom."<br>"What about this ritual?" Blaine demanded, panic filling his chest. "Why does he want Judy to preform it?"  
>"What ritual?" Now Kurt was frantic and slightly hysterical. "Blaine, what are you talking about?"<p>

"I overheard them." He needed to find out more. "Nick and Judy. They were talking about some kind of ritual they were going to perform!"  
>"Nick?" Kurt breathed shallowly through the mike. "Who's Nick?"<br>"Dave." Blaine corrected, doubting Kurt would believe him if he started going on about ghosts. "I meant Dave. Kurt, you have got to leave Lima."  
>"No." His friend insisted. "I can't leave my dad. I can't leave you, Blaine."<br>"Who are you talking to?" Judy Fabray's cold voice interrupted their mutual freak out session. "I heard you muttering."

Fear crept into his belly as she stepped through the invisible doorway. Blaine gripped the comforter tightly, shaking his head in denial. "I was just yelling at the DJ. I can't believe that he actually thinks these songs deserve to be in the Top 40."  
>"I see." Judy carried a tray of food, glasses full of colorful liquid, and eyed him skeptically. "I have some food for you."<br>"Thanks." He didn't really know why he'd thanked his kidnapper for feeding him, but politeness had been ingrained into him from both his parents and at Dalton.

"Can I ask you a question?"  
>"Of course." Judy set the tray down besides Quinn's from last night. "I see no reason why we can't be civil to one another."<br>"What do you want from Kurt Hummel?" Blaine decided diving right into the topic at hand would be better than beating around the bush. "I think I deserve to know why I've been mislead and deceived."

"Kurt is something special." She explained, handing him some kind of red fruit juice. "The male son of Elizabeth Hummel. While there are males born with magic-powerful warlocks are very rare. Magic is normally much stronger in females. Elizabeth had strong magic. She was one of the most powerful witches during her hay day. Her family was infamous for their power. Kurt is their heir. Now that he's of age, his magic will only grow stronger. His only weakness is that he's completely untrained-and really unaware of his own power."  
>"And you want to train him?" Blaine guessed. "So you can include him in your coven?"<p>

"Very good." Judy smiled at him. "You are intelligent. When we preform a ritual on Kurt, it will bring out his abilities. We believe he's tied to the Chaosphere. All of that magic-right at our fingertips-will cement our power."  
>"I can understand your motives." He disagreed with them, but he figured she already knew that. "I don't understand why you need Nick, or why you want Kurt to sleep with him."<br>"I see you've been busy snooping during your brief time in Lima." She chuckled. "Psychics always are nosy. Haven't you figured it out yet, Blaine? Once Kurt sleeps with Nick, they will both be permanently tied to one another. Forever. Kurt will belong to Nick. Nick will be able to remain on Earth, and more importantly, he'll be able to still access the other realm."

"So if Nick is doing this for you." Blaine thought about her words for a long, troubled moment. "Then why are you so interested in me, and turning me into a Knave?"  
>"Nick can access the other realm." Judy traced her long, thin fingers along Blaine's cheek. "But he doesn't have access to the magic there. Elizabeth does. When she drinks your blood, she'll become a part of you. You'll be forced to let her in. The two of you together-bound by blood and psyche-will have unlimited power at your fingertips. Power that will belong to us."<p>

His stomach recoiled. "Elizabeth seemed more interested in helping her son. What makes you think she'll cooperate with you? Especially since she was your enemy when she was alive?"  
>"Oh." Judy shook her head, shoving a plate of fresh fruit at him. "I'm sorry. You actually thought you had a chance to fight this. Blaine, you must understand something. Elizabeth has no choice. She must drink your blood now. The first taste only enticed her. It's like a very powerful drug. She can only fight it for so long."<br>"H-how did you get her to hurt me the first time?" He croaked, terror crawling through his body. "How?"  
>"All it took was a little manipulation." She gloated. "We've known for years that she's been lurking. When we discovered your presence in Westerville, we decided to take matters into our own hands. Kurt was doing well in Glee Club. Burt had accepted his sexuality with open arms, and was happy with Carol. So Elizabeth began to move towards the other realm. Of course, she stayed behind when Burt's heart suddenly failed."<p>

"You caused his heart attack?" He gasped, refusing the food. "Jesus."  
>"It was necessary." Judy defended coldly. "Kurt needed to be weak in order for Nick to claim him in the locker room. So not only did Kurt have to help his father recover, he had Dave Karofsky harassing him. It took a while, but eventually he agreed to date Nick. The bullying stopped. Quinn helped the school change through her magic. Nick fell in love with Kurt due to my daughter's spell. We made Kurt accept the relationship in exchange for letting his father live."<p>

No wonder Kurt kept seeing Nick on a regular basis. All he'd wanted was to save his father from dying years before his time. "You're a horrible person."  
>"No." Judy shrugged, painfully squeezing his wrist. "I'm a determined person. And tonight, Elizabeth will be granted access to you."<br>The words chilled him to the bone. Judy stood and eyed him from the door. "I'm not going to lie. It will hurt."  
>He couldn't say anything to her. All he could do was cry and tremble. Fear consumed him, because he knew no one would be able to help him this time.<p>

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered. "Are you still there?"  
>"Yes." He choked out, though he couldn't move or think properly. "How much of that did you hear?"<br>"All of it." Kurt answered in a tiny, scared voice. "Blaine? I don't know what to do."  
>"You have to leave." Blaine insisted again. "Please, leave Lima."<p>

"I can't." He responded miserably. "I already told you why."  
>"I know." Blaine considered his options. "Can't you get your Dad to go with you? Or maybe arrange for someone else to care for him?"<br>"No." Kurt huffed. "I don't think they could protect him from the coven if I did."  
>"Kurt." Desperation tainted his hoarse voice. "Please, help me."<p>

The radio crackled once again and abruptly shut off, indication that David had ended the conversation or Kurt had left his basement. Blaine flopped into his pillows and sobbed. The thought of being nothing more than helpless spirit vessel for the next few years haunted his aching head. Classical music played through the small radio. He knew David meant it as a form of comfort, but nothing could really help him at the moment other than escaping from his prison.  
>Escape. He had to at least try. Maybe he could find a way out, despite what Judy said. Snow fell from the sky in an angry white swirl, indicating a major blizzard had settled over Western Ohio. Blaine drank two glasses of water and downed some fruit before he attempted to flee his room. It would be harder to succeed at escaping if he didn't eat or ensure hydration. Padding silently over to the window, he tried with every once of strength he had left to open it.<p>

As his fingers fiddled with the lock, a blue light sizzled and burned them. Blaine shrieked in renewed pain. Tucking his hands under his shirt, he sank to the floor and cried in frustration. Quiet humming eventually reached his ears. When he looked up, eyes red and swollen from his tears, Quinn smiled sadly at him. "Can I get you anything?"  
>"Help me." He begged, knowing he sounded completely desperate. "Please."<br>"I can't." Quinn approached him, placing her delicate fingers on his forehead. "You look sleepy, Blaine."

He wanted to protest, or scream, but his eyes obediently drooped and he soon found himself back on the bed. "Quinn."  
>"It will be easier this way." She insisted sympathetically, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "You'll sleep for a while. When the others get here, you will barely even notice."<br>"No." He croaked, hating her. "No."  
>"I can't really heal this." Quinn admitted. "I can't. But sleep is just one way our body heals. So I can let you sleep. At least you'll have pleasant dreams."<br>"Blaine." Wes' voice drifted out of the radio. "We'll save you."

Quinn couldn't hear the ghost's promise. Footsteps shuffled hurriedly down the hall. The blond whipped her head around and quickly got up from the bed. Quinn stepped out into the hallway and greeted the newcomer with surprise. "Mike?"  
>"Quinn!" Mike hollered loudly. "Tina forgot her necklace here the other day when she slept over. I didn't mean to barge into your house, but I figured you'd be okay if I came up and knocked on your door."<br>"Tina." Quinn echoed distractedly. "You're here for Tina's necklace. Stay right there. I'll get it. It's in my bedroom."  
>"Sure." Mike promised. "No problem! Thanks!"<br>A loud bang made Blaine jump, but he still couldn't fully open his tired eyes. The doorway reappeared. A tall, lanky Asian teen dragged Quinn through the barrier and unceremoniously dumped her limp body into the armchair. "Blaine!"  
>"What?" He mumbled, staring at his rescuer. "Who?"<br>"Trent!" The teenager announced, smiling. "I'm here to save you."  
>"How?" Blaine felt ropey arms encircle his slim waist, lifting him into a fireman's carry.<p>

"Sometimes the dead can be connected to the living in unique ways." Trent explained, puffing loudly as he hauled Blaine through the door. "Mike was feeling down. So he cut himself."  
>"Just like you did." Blaine squeezed his friend's arm. "Trent. Thanks."<br>"Judy is out." Trent informed him, struggling with the locked door downstairs. "She's gathering her coven together. Left Quinn in charge."  
>Snowflakes drifted into Blaine's eyes, but he didn't care. The coven wouldn't be able to harm him tonight. Relief consumed his body. "You saved me, Trent. Who's car is that?"<br>"Mike's." Trent shrugged, opening the passenger door and placing Blaine into the seat. "I'm going to drive you over to Kurt's house."

Wes, David, and Jeff popped into the vehicle and peered worriedly at him. The ghosts remained tense during their brief journey. Blaine nodded off for a while, content that he was free from the coven's tight grip. "Thank you."  
>The car came to an abrupt stop. Trent doubled over in pain, holding his arm painfully. "Wes, I can't control him anymore." Sorrow edged into his statement. "Goodbye, Blaine."<br>"Wait." Blaine sat up in his seat, staring at Trent. "Where are you going?"  
>"Trent committed suicide because he felt guilty." Wes explained mournfully, dropping his head in grief. "When he was alive, he participated in a pretty horrible attack."<br>"I killed someone, Blaine." Trent heaved, a strange look on his face. "I killed a boy like you. Helped my friends corner him and beat him until he died. I'm sorry."  
>"He stayed behind." David placed a hand on Trent's shoulders. "Because he wanted a chance to redeem himself. Help someone in need."<br>"Didn't know it would be you." Trent confessed, eyes dimming. "But I'm glad it was."

The light in Trent's eyes faded. Mike slumped into the steering wheel, unconscious. Blaine shook his shoulder. "Trent?"  
>"He's gone, Blaine." Wes croaked. "He won't be coming back."<br>"There's Kurt and his dad." David announced, shifting the awkward and tense moment into a note of happiness. "Wave them over."  
>It took a lot of effort, but Blaine managed to lift his hand. Kurt spotted the car and urged his father to get in the back. Burt Hummel grunted, noting the sleeping teen at the wheel. "What's he doing here?"<p>

"He doesn't need medical attention." Kurt eyed his fellow classmate. "I think some of Blaine's friends brought him here."  
>"The same ones that are messing with our electricity and making our utility bills climb?" Burt slowly got into the car, wincing as he climbed inside. "Those friends?"<br>"Yes." Blaine blushed with embarrassment. "How did you find out about them?"

"A friend." Kurt smiled, pulling Mike out of the front seat and helping him into the back. "She explained everything to me."  
>"We're taking him to a hospital, right?" Blaine insisted, staring at Mike's limp body. "He sliced his arm open."<br>"It won't need stitches." Kurt sighed and shook his head. "Mike sees a therapist on a regular basis, and his parents know he self-harms. He'll wake up in a few hours and he'll think this was just a dream."

"Oh." Blaine blinked in confusion. "Where are we going after that?"  
>"We're following your friend's suggestion." Burt pointed east. "We're going to your grandmother's house."<br>"She said she could help us." Kurt looked eager, and slightly hopeful. "Right now, this is our best and only option."

The engine started. Music filled the roomy and spacious Honda. After several minutes, a mid-sized yellow house came into sight. Kurt parked the car and helped Mike to the front door. The Changs whisked their son and his friend inside. Blaine wanted to scream at them that they needed to leave before Judy discovered he'd escaped. Once his agitated breaths had fogged the windows, Burt reached his hand forward and patted Blaine's shoulder.  
>"Take it easy, kid." Burt's eyes softened. "We're leaving town in a blizzard. According to your grandma, 'clouds will fill our shoes'. She said we'd be safe. Until we hit state lines."<p>

Blaine sluggishly turned around. "You knew about Elizabeth being a witch, didn't you?"  
>"'Course I did." Burt laughed, which turned into a hacking cough. "We had an honest relationship. She saved my life back when we were in high school."<br>"With magic?" He hadn't known that Elizabeth could heal. "Was there an accident?"  
>"Robbery." Burt confessed. "Elizabeth saved my life."<p>

"Does Kurt know about this?" He had no idea how much the other boy knew about his own past. "About all of it?"  
>"He does now." Burt rubbed his hand over his bald head. "Didn't know he was a warlock. Not until my heart attack. Elizabeth always insisted that magic ran strictly in females and not males. I didn't think twice about it until a few months ago, when I started dating Carol."<br>"Carol." Blaine jumped in his seat. "Who's she?"

"My girlfriend." Burt explained. "When I was in the hospital, she told me that Elizabeth had lied to me to protect Kurt. Carol and Elizabeth both had sons. When my wife realized that her son was a Warlock, she panicked because she knew her enemies would try to steal him away. So Carol lied and claimed her son was the warlock. Of course, Elizabeth set up a little spell that made everyone believe that little white lie."  
>"How did they find out it was Kurt?" Blaine felt incredibly tired. "And not Carol's son?"<br>"They tested them." Burt shook his head in disgust. "Finn failed the test. Kurt didn't. They knew that Carol and Elizabeth were lying, and had been for years."

The Chang's front door swung open. Kurt stepped back out into the blizzard and hugged a rotund Asian woman goodbye. Her cheeks were red from crying. Blaine leaned against the window, happy they were finally getting back on the road. Kurt got into the car and rubbed his hands together.  
>"How did it go?" Burt asked artlessly. "How's Mike?"<br>"In bed." Kurt revved the engine and pulled out into the white, barely visible road. Few cars would dare to drive in such treacherous conditions. "His parents were grateful that I brought him home, but they're devastated he cut himself again. I guess he hasn't done it for a while. Mrs. Chang said they've done their best to help their son-let him dance, let him stay in Glee Club, let him date and go out-but sometimes he just gets so depressed that he can't fight those urges anymore."

Their voices lulled Blaine into sleep. White roads and fresh snow filled his vision. A convenience store came into sight. Blaine eyed his gas gage, hovering past empty, and smiled. The old Chevy really could go forty miles on fumes. He parked next to a gas pump and hurried inside the store. Some jerky sounded fantastic at the moment. Maybe the clerk wouldn't check his identification card if he bought some smokes. Blaine grabbed the Slim Jim's off the shelves and eyed the many soda choices in the refrigerator.

An angry voice interrupted his silent debate over cherry seven-up or pepsi. Blaine turned, only to be hit by something hard and hot. Pain erupted in his chest. Metal flashed under the bright florescent lighting. Someone screamed and another shot rang out. A brown haired girl with breathtaking blue-green eyes loomed above him. Her hands pressed into his gaping chest wound.  
>"You're not supposed to die." The woman decided, tears streaming down her face. "We're supposed to get married. I saw it in a dream."<br>"I'd marry you." He agreed, wishing he could live for her sake. "Elizabeth. You never seemed interested in any of us, you know. You were always too good for this town. Would you tell your brother that I'm sorry I harassed him?"  
>"Of course." She ran her hands along his side. "I'm not letting you die. I can fix you."<p>

Warmth started to course through Blaine's body. The chest wound healed as Elizabeth chanted and raised her hands over him. Soon, nothing hurt at all. Blaine sat up, staring at his savior as she collapsed against the shelves. "Marry me."  
>The sound of soft, perfectly clear singing dragged Blaine away from the dream. Music played softly from the car's stereo. Kurt sang along to Lady Gaga, hitting each and every high note without trouble.<p>

"You're quite a good singer, you know." Blaine informed him. "I don't mind waking up to your voice."  
>"Blaine!" Kurt blushed fiercely. "I'm sorry if I woke you. Singing helps distract me. Had a lot on my mind. Sorry."<br>"Don't be." He shrugged, craning his neck to find Burt fast asleep in the back. "Where are we?"  
>"Near the border." Kurt gave him a thin smile. "The snow's coming down, but the roads are still open."<br>"Are we stopping at all tonight?" Blaine rolled his shoulders, acutely aware of his familiar and annoying headache. "Even at least for food? I think my stomach is rebelling."

His appetite had returned in full force, demanding a satisfying meal as a compensation for the meager ones he'd consumed earlier. Kurt bit his lip and considered the request. "I'm not sure if it's safe to stop."  
>"What did my grandmother say?" He had a burning need to see her, even though they had never met or spoken to each other during his lifetime. "Did she call?"<br>"Connie said that we shouldn't stop until we cross the state line." Kurt explained. "And we'll hit Michigan in about an hour."  
>"Then we'll wait." Blaine smiled. "Kurt?"<br>"Yes?"  
>"Thanks."<p>

Blaine was about to finish his gratitude by complimenting Kurt on his beautiful eyes, but he never got the chance. The front tire blew. Ominous hissing precluded the Honda swerving in the snow. Kurt expertly corrected the car, let off the gas, and slowly eased it to a stop.  
>"Looks like we got a flat." Kurt zipped up his heavy parka and got out. "I'll change it."<br>"I'll help." Blaine offered, no longer feeling the urgent need to sleep. "I think I'm better now."

The snow fell around them. Kurt got out a jack, only to be stopped by a piercing cry. Elizabeth swooped out of the evening sky. Blaine cried out, watching as Kurt tumbled clumsily to the ground.  
>"Blaine." Elizabeth slammed him into the car. "I need a taste. Can't-can't fight it anymore."<br>"No!" He struggled against her, trying to free his flailing limbs. "No!"

Fingers dug painfully into his arm, ripping away the cast and yanking out stitches. He screamed as her mouth touched his skin. Fire burned through his body. Everything else faded into black. Someone called Blaine's name repeatedly. Kurt stood above him, eyes wide and terrified at the blood pooling around his torso. Elizabeth hungrily licked her fingers, shuddering as she consumed the red liquid.  
>"Needed it." She stared at him for a moment. "Sorry. Sorry."<p>

The ghost walked into the snow, disappearing from sight. Blaine watched her go and wailed in pain. Trent had sacrificed himself for nothing. Wes, David, Jeff, and the other Warblers stood at the edges of the forest. They had lost one of their own to another world, one they had yet to venture into. He drifted as slender arms wrapped around his waist, falling into a black abyss. Kurt's worried eyes were the last thing Blaine saw before he passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and commented. Hope you guys still like where this is going:). I appreciated the alerts/reviews/favorites:).

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><p><strong>Eight <strong>

A soft, melodic voice woke Blaine from a dreamless sleep. The stark blackness scared him. He'd always had extremely vivid dreams. Waking to nothing but darkness sent a shiver down his spine. Something cold and wet pressed against his forehead. It hurt. Blaine tried to roll away from it, but firm hands prevented him from moving. A heavy blanket covered his legs.

"Blaine." Kurt's tired, strained voice finally reached his ears. "It's okay. You're running a bit of a fever."

He opened his eyes, discovering a queen size bed and drab blue walls. A television hummed quietly in the background. "Where are we?"

Kurt sighed, relief flooding his eyes. "You're awake. We're in a hotel in Monroe, Michigan. The roads were shut down yesterday. They haven't reopened since."

"Blizzard." He remembered, grateful as a glass of water touched his lips. "Arm hurts."

Kurt had wrapped a fresh bandage around Blaine's arm. It felt swollen, sore, and heavy. His head throbbed with his aching limb. The Warblers were nowhere in sight, which seemed unusual. "Where are they?"

"Who?" Kurt blinked at him, holding out a styrofoam cup. "I think you should try some soup. It's from the diner downstairs. They're still serving guests, at least."

"Wes, David." Blaine sat up, regretting it instantly. "Wes?"

"I think he means the ghosts." Burt peered at him from the other bed, a confused look on his face. "What, you can't see them right now?"

"No!" Tears sprang from his eyes. "Why can't I see them?"

"Blaine." Kurt set the soup down, gently cupping his face. "Please, it's alright. Look, maybe it's just a temporary side effect or something."

The panic continued to well inside his chest, but he nodded once he saw how exhausted Kurt looked. Blaine ate the soup slowly and out of sheer obligation. It sat uneasily in his stomach. The quiet hotel room seemed almost foreign. At first, he'd feared and hated his psychic abilities. The ghosts had terrified him. He had spent hours, days, and weeks digging through pages of mental illness conditions online, expecting to find one about seeing ghosts. Then Angelo had demanded his attention. Once he had accepted that he was not crazy as he'd feared, the ghosts became his distraction. Eventually, they turned into his friends.

Most people dreamed about being a better person, helping others, and finding a calling in life. Blaine had all of that at his fingertips. Healing other people's wounds made him feel amazing. He'd learned that he could be a better human being than what society expected. The television flicked on and off obnoxiously. Blaine stared at it, smiling when the channel changed to an old _I Love Lucy _rerun.

"David." He beamed, coughing roughly as he finally accepted some juice from Kurt. "At least I know you guys are here."

Kurt stared at him, looking at the television with a pinched expression on his face. "I thought it kept doing that because it was broken."

"No." Blaine slowly dipped a plastic spoon into the lukewarm soup bowl. "David has a thing for electronics. He wanted to be an engineer."

"Is it weird?" Kurt implored, sinking onto the bed beside him. "Seeing the ghosts?"

Blaine thought about his answer for a long time. "Not anymore."

Kurt didn't respond. Turning his head to the side, he found the countertenor asleep. Burt sighed turned off the light. "Finally. I'm pretty sure my kid hasn't slept in forty-eight hours. Too busy looking after everyone else."

"I don't mind." He finished the awful soup and laid back down. "Maybe the roads will reopen soon."

Burt flicked off the light next to the bed. "I'm completely useless."

"They did it." Blaine admitted, shivering as he thought about Judy. "They made you sick."

"Yeah." The older man huffed, shifting in his bed. "I sort of put things together once I talked to your grandmother."

"How is she?" Blaine wondered what she was like, and why his mother had stopped talking to her. "I've never actually met her."

Burt considered his question carefully. "I'd say she's a spitfire. She mostly talked to Kurt. I think she knows a lot more than she says she does. I could hear it in her voice. She knew who my son was."

"Was she nice?" Blaine figured she had to be more understanding than his mother.

"She seemed to be." Burt's breaths slowed as he closed his eyes.

The quiet unnerved him. Blaine drifted in and out of sleep. The pain made it difficult to focus for long periods of time. His arm itched and burned. Heat coursed through his body in unpredictable intervals. Cold followed hot. He'd reach for the blankets, trying to keep himself warm, only to kick them away minutes later. A deep ache settled into his bones.

Time lost all meaning. Blaine drank water and other replenishing fluids whenever Kurt pressed a glass to his lips. Burt made him choke down soup. Painkillers and herbs frequently found their way into his trembling hands. It took more effort than it should have to swallow them. When the bed started moving, his stomach followed suit. Blaine fought nausea for countless hours. Music constantly filled the small space. Clutching the blankets around his body, he wondered when the mattress had become so uncomfortable.

Occasionally, worried conversation reached his ears. Blaine ignored it, wishing for relief from the terrible nausea. It only subsided when the bed stopped moving. Kurt would usually help him use the bathroom. He could barely walk, and usually had to close his eyes so he didn't throw up all over the ground. They always took him outside. Burt usually claimed him as his son to the man standing behind the hotel counter. During each journey back indoors, Blaine often wondered why the lobby looked exactly like a convenience store.

The scenery didn't really matter. He huddled under the blankets, bursting into tears as the bed started to move again. The nausea returned full force. Kurt sat beside him, too exhausted to join his father on the other bed, and noticed his friend's distress. "What's wrong?"

"His fever's not spiking again, is it?" Burt worried from a distance. "I thought I told you to get some rest, Kurt. I can't have you collapse on me!"

"He's crying." Pulling the blankets down, Kurt rested his head on Blaine's chest. "He's getting worse, Dad."

"We'll be in Canada soon." Burt sighed. "He'll be in better hands once we cross the border."

Blaine gently gripped Kurt's hands, grateful for his presence. The other boy closed his eyes. Watching his friend's chest rise and fall, Blaine smiled. The nausea wasn't so bad anymore. He began to feel better. The chills subsided, his headache dissipated, and his arm throbbed less. Blaine smiled at Kurt as he began to drift into a peaceful sleep.

A familiar hallway came into sight. Students chatted loudly, excited to be missing class for an impromptu performance by the Warblers. The choir members were popular partly because they usually convinced the faculty to let them have random concerts in order to "prepare". Blaine spotted Kurt's curious face at the front of the crowd and smiled. The Warblers opened _Teenage Dream _with ease and class_. _Blaine lead them through the song, confident he had captured Kurt's attention.

Kurt clapped and grinned through the whole performance. He took him by the hand again, leading his friend out into the commons for a cup of coffee. They talked about fashion and bullies. Neither boy mentioned ghosts or magic. Kurt sang _Don't Cry For Me Argentina. _Blaine listened to his voice. They went for coffee again afterwards and ended up in a scenic park.

The swings squeaked as they pumped their legs, flying through the air during a magnificent Ohio sunset. Blaine laughed. The grass felt cool and moist against his back. Kurt rested beside him, content softening his features. Blaine's heart constricted at his beauty. Leaning forward, he pressed a light kiss on Kurt's lips. A surprised gasp caught his ear, but Kurt responded and kissed him back. They pulled away from each other when something rustled the bushes.

"What was that?" Blaine sat up, blushing madly. "Did you hear that?"

Angry dark eyes bore into his soul. Nick barreled out of the tree line, rage pinching his face. "Kurt is _mine_!"

Kurt let out a cry of anguish. Blaine jerked violently, knocking his elbow against the car's door handle. "Kurt?"

"Here." He squawked, rubbing his eyes and turning a blunt shade of red. "We were dreaming?"

"Yes." Blaine smiled tensely. "I'm sorry Nick interrupted it."

When he saw Kurt's confused look, Blaine explained the situation. How Nick had possessed Dave Karofsky's body months ago and betrayed him so he could have Kurt. Kurt paled, but let him finish the sordid tale before he added his inner thoughts to their quiet conversation. "He wants to sleep with me on prom night. That's how he's going to build his connection to me, isn't it?"

"I don't know for sure." Blaine admitted. "But it really looks that way. I'm sorry he did this to you, Kurt."

"I don't want to sleep with him." Tears flowed down Kurt's cheeks. "I don't want to be bound to him forever."

At a loss for words, Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt and let him cry. "We'll be safe with my grandmother."

"He kissed me." Kurt sobbed. "He harassed me. Knowing that he was gay and bullied in his past just makes it worse. How could he do this to me?"

"Ghosts tend to focus on one thing at a time." Blaine repeated the explanation Wes had given him years before, hoping it wouldn't confuse his friend. "A lot of times it has to do with whatever they felt unsatisfied or haunted by while they lived. Sometimes they focus on things that frustrated them. Their discontentment grows and they become obsessed with it. Then they can turn violent."

"Nick isn't really a ghost." Kurt huffed, horrified. "He's-in a lot of ways-living again!"

"But he's not supposed to be." Blaine ran a hand through his curls. "I knew Nick pretty well when he was living. Nick was a lot like you in some ways. Strong, courageous, and intelligent. He struggled with bullies, his parents weren't supportive, and he died violently. Nick is still channeling all of those feelings. Even if he did get to stay alive permanently, he'd still focus on what bothered him before."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." Kurt swiped away tears, gently taking his hand. "You kissed me."

"You kissed me back." Blaine smiled wistfully. "It was only a dream."

"I wouldn't mind if you did it again." Kurt whispered. "No interruptions here."

"What about your dad?" He stuck a thumb towards the driver's seat, where Burt sat listening to an audiobook as he drove through the night.

"You're right." Disappointment tainted Kurt's hopeful tone. "We should wait."

Not wanting to let the opportunity slip by him, Blaine reached for Kurt's face and pulled him into a kiss. "You healed me."

"I did?" Kurt squeaked between kisses. "I don't even know how I did that."

The kissed passionately, only stopping when Burt finally noticed the commotion in the backseat. Blaine withered under his hard stare and managed to meet his gaze with a false bravado. The older man said nothing about their kiss. Blaine stared into Kurt's eyes as they held hands. They stayed quiet for the remainder of the trip, too exhausted and scared for further discussion about their feelings or their uncertain future.

Dawn arrived uneventfully. A dirt road stretched for miles, leading the way to old farm houses spread out along its edges. Wheat fields surrounded their car. A lake sparkled under the early morning light. The large, spacious red house nestled between rolling hills stood out. It had a distinctly Victorian design to it. Tall cottonwood trees and weeping willows surrounded the property. Grapevines crawled up every brick wall. A greenhouse sat behind the covered and hidden patio.

Blaine regarded the house carefully, feeling its age and history instantly. The Warblers waited for them at the cast iron gate. Wes stood on the edge of the property.

"Wes." Blaine greeted happily, relieved he could still see his friends. "Where are the others?"

"Blaine." Wes grinned. "We'll be here, waiting for you. Unfortunately, I can't go beyond this point."

"Why not?" He ignored Burt and Kurt, staring at him curiously as he spoke to his dead friend. "I just started seeing you again."

"I know." Wes eyed the property warily. "But there are rules. And spirits are very reluctant to cross into sacred burial ground."

"My grandmother lives on sacred ground?" He asked, incredulous. "Are you kidding me?"

"No." Constance York confirmed haughtily, staring down Wesley Montgomery. "Spirits are forbidden here. You are pushing your luck, Wesley."

"He's my friend." Blaine defended, not understanding her defensiveness. "He won't do anything."

"Perhaps he will, perhaps he won't. Hard to tell with this one." Her gray hair flapped in the gentle breeze. "Blaine. It is good to see you. Come inside, and we'll get to know one another. Thank you, Burt, for bringing them here."

"You're welcome." Burt eyed the gargoyle statues perched on the roof. "Nice place."

"I feel like I'm in a Bronte novel." Kurt remarked quietly, clutching Blaine's hand. "I really don't want to be Heathcliff and Catherine."

"I think we're more of a Harry and Sally." Blaine replied, though he felt just as nervous as Kurt looked. "She'll help us. I know she will."

The interior held many unique treasures. Antique furniture, countless knick knacks, abstract art, and plants created an interesting portrait of Constance York's life. Blaine noticed some pictures hanging on the wall. A lot of them featured his mother. He didn't know anyone else, though he did find several familiar baby photographs. Constance lead them into the sitting room. "We can talk in a while. You're safe here. Not from everything, mind you, but the coven won't be able to find you. You're hidden away from them at the moment. I'll make you some breakfast."

"Would you like some help?" Burt offered instantly, even though he seemed completely worn out.

"If you would like." Constance enveloped Blaine in a hug. "Honey, I am happy to have you here."

"Thanks." Blaine returned her embrace, finally releasing Kurt's hand. "For helping me."

"Of course." His grandmother paused, regarding him for a long moment. "Blaine. There is much you don't know. I need to speak privately with Burt first, before anything else is discussed."

"We'll go upstairs." Kurt agreed readily, curious. "We can sleep for a while. I'd love a shower."

An image of a naked, wet Kurt filled Blaine's mind. He stared after him as he made his way up the back staircase. "Coming?"

Nodding, Blaine hurried up after him. "Grandma?"

"Yes, dear?" She beamed, pointedly ignoring Burt's hooded look.

"Where are we staying?" Blaine hadn't felt this welcomed and accepted in a long time. "And I'm sorry we couldn't be together before now."

"Third door on the right." Constance waved them upstairs. "You come back down when you're ready, you hear?"

Burt choked out a strained, terse cry. "Kurt."

"Yes dad?" Kurt blinked uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Constance insisted. "Nothing. I'm sure your father is just tired."

"Just." Burt sighed. "It's just-I love you."

"I love you too." Kurt smiled, reaching for Blaine's hand. "We'll be back down later."

The room turned out to be spacious, well lit, and decorated in light colors. Blaine flopped down onto the large bed. It didn't really matter that only one bed occupied the room. Kurt made a beeline for the restroom and closed the door, leaving him alone on the bed. After a while the shower turned on. He didn't sleep since he'd spent the past few days completely zoned out due to his fever.

Imagining Kurt underneath the hot water did things to him. In the past, Blaine had always fantasized about Nick or one of the random guys in the magazines he hid in his dorm. The showers at Dalton intimidated him just like the ones at St. Catherine's had and he never could gather the courage to go in there with other boys. He showered at night. The water ran persistently, its rhythm enticing his body.

Unable to control himself any longer, Blaine rose from the bed and robotically walked towards the showers. Something powerful and strong pulled him there like a magnet. The door opened without any trouble. Normally, he would never even dream of doing such a thing. Blaine walked inside even though his instincts screamed at him to turn around and leave.

The shower curtain flew open, revealing a very naked Kurt Hummel. Blaine's mouth dropped. Kurt's arms curled around his torso instantly. Wet lips brushed against his own, eager and willing. "Blaine."

"Kurt." Blaine climbed into the bathtub, not caring that he was still fully dressed. "Kurt."

They kissed one another deeply. Kurt lifted the hem of Blaine's shirt and carelessly removed his shirt. He stripped without a second thought. Their bodies collided once more, desperate to touch and caress. It occurred to him that he had never done anything close to this before. Blaine smiled, love blossoming from every fiber of his being. The feeling consumed him.

Touching Kurt gave Blaine a natural high. Their limbs entwined and their bodies shook with pleasure. It wasn't until he'd come down that he realized what had just happened. The water had gone cold. Kurt stared numbly at the ground. "Did we really just do that?"

"Yes." Blaine pulled a towel off the rack, handing it to Kurt. "We did."

"Oh." Kurt quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, sinking down to his knees. "I've never done that before."

Blaine blinked at him, worry creeping into his gut. "Kurt. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." Standing up once more, Kurt grimaced. "It's just. That wasn't exactly how I imagined my first hand job."

"Hey." Blaine stepped forward, helping him out of the tub. "Come here."

Wrapping the trembling boy in a tight embrace, Blaine led him back into the bedroom. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you into anything."

"You didn't." Kurt leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder. "I think it's my fault, Blaine."

"How?" He frowned. "I don't understand."

"It's the magic." Kurt bit his lip. "I like you."

"You do?" Blaine smiled. "I like you too."

"I know you do." Kurt replied. "I liked you from the moment I met you. Blaine, when I found out that you were trying to save me, I just-I don't know. Fell. I fell _hard. _No one else even tried except Sam and Quinn, and they did what they could. I think you may have picked up on some of my feelings when we fell asleep in the car."

"And you healed me." Blaine remembered. "I don't care, Kurt."

"What?" Kurt blurted, incredulous. "You should care."

They curled around each other. Blaine contemplated going downstairs to eat and quietly got up from the bed. Kurt slept peacefully under the blankets, content to miss a meal so he could finally rest. Pulling on a clean shirt and lose pajama pants, Blaine made his way towards the stairs. Voices caught his attention. He dropped to the floor and laid on his stomach. Constance York and Burt Hummel argued quietly in the sitting room.

"You can't seriously be thinking that this is a good idea!" Burt sounded angry. "Those two boys upstairs are terrified of what's going to happen to them."

"The seeds are already there." Constance spoke with patience and understanding. "You saw them together."

"Yeah." Burt agreed, turning his head. "Hungry, Blaine?"

"Uh." Blaine stood and blushed, ashamed at being caught. "Sure."

"Blaine!" Constance grinned. "Here, have some eggs."

The hot food smelled wonderful. Blaine thanked his grandmother graciously, digging into his meal without hesitation. Apparently being attacked by Elizabeth had seriously affected his appetite. Kurt came downstairs by the time he'd started on his second plate. Blaine stared adoringly at him, smiling and watching him move around the kitchen. The boy was beautiful. Stoic grace dominated every step he took, his blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and he had a lovely smile.

"Blaine." Burt coughed awkwardly, frowning at him. "Maybe you ought to slow down there."

"Burt." Constance glared, clearly annoyed at the older man for something. "Let the boy eat in peace. Kurt, are you hungry?"

"Actually, yes." Kurt shyly smiled as he caught Blaine staring. "I think I'd like to do nothing but sleep today."

"Then do it." Burt suggested, something unidentifiable in his words. "You deserve it."

"You'll be safe here." His grandmother promised. "We have much to talk about. But it can wait until later. You boys need to rejuvenate."

"Sure." Blaine readily agreed, his focus entirely on Kurt. "I could sleep."

Their conversation turned light, their problems temporarily forgotten. Blaine could not remember feeling quite this happy before. Everything was different. Kurt stared at him subtly sometimes, but always averted his gaze whenever Blaine found him looking. As Kurt sat down, Blaine grabbed his hand under the table.

"The eggs are amazing." He beamed, love bombarding his heart. "Just like you are."

"Blaine." Kurt squeaked and blushed. "We're at the table."

The delicate, soft hand did not pull away from his grasp. "Are we?"

"Did you even notice my dad and your grandmother heading downstairs?" Kurt seemed uncertain, though he smiled faintly. "My dad is tired. I should go check on him."

"Stay." Blaine tenderly cupped Kurt's cheek, relishing the feel of skin under his fingertips. "You should relax."

"Blaine." Kurt leaned closer, all of the fight leaving his body. "You don't know what you're doing."

"Sure I do." Blaine captured Kurt's lips in a soft kiss. "You move me."

"Oh." Kurt mumbled against his mouth. "Do that again."

They kissed desperately, never interrupting their intimacy as they made their way haphazardly upstairs. Blaine loved Kurt with everything he had. It didn't matter that they had barely knew each other. Something inside him trusted Kurt completely. Blaine wanted to cherish him, hold him close, and keep him safe. Their bodies collided more forcefully than they had earlier that morning.

Kurt responded the most to gentle, loving touches. Blaine picked up on it immediately and took his time. The other boy's skin tensed, then relaxed into each stroke. Kurt murmured happily beneath him. When he reached for his shirt, Kurt froze and pushed his hands away. "Stop."

"What's the matter?" Blaine withdrew his hands, upset that he had made a mistake. "What did I do wrong?"

"Blaine." Kurt breathed into chest, wrapping his arms around his body. "It's not you. Really, it's not. It's just. I don't know how much of this-thing between us is influenced by my-my loneliness."

"I love you." Blaine blurted, not caring of the repercussions. "I know I love you. Can't you feel it?"

"Yes." Kurt kissed his cheek. "What are we even doing?"

"I love you." He repeated dumbly, unable to comprehend Kurt's hesitation. "What do you want to do?"

"Kiss me." Kurt replied, biting his bottom lip. "I want this more than anything I've ever wanted before. That has to count for something, right?"

"Anything you want." Blaine promised, smiling as he kissed Kurt again. "Kurt. You saved my life."

Later, after they had orgasmed together again, Blaine contently lay entwined with Kurt. The morning passed into afternoon. They stayed in bed together. He drifted in and out of sleep, not wanting the day to end. Eventually two quiet voices dragged him back to reality. Burt and Constance stood at the doorway, watching the two boys sleep.

"It's working." Constance sounded relieved. "They are bonding."

"It seems a little rushed." Burt sipped from a steaming cup of coffee. "Shouldn't they do all of the normal teenage stuff first?"

"As much as I wish they could, they just don't have the time." His grandmother smiled wistfully. "While Kurt has remarkable power, he can't force anyone to do anything against their will. His raw power can influence them, but in the end, everyone makes their own choices. Finn exploded at Kurt last year because he didn't reciprocate Kurt's feelings. Blaine is lonely, looking for acceptance, and most of all, love. They both are. Their feelings may be brought to the surface sooner than most normal relationships, but it's nothing they don't already feel on some level. That's the beauty of magic. It just speeds things along."

"And you're sure this bond thing will help them?" Burt took another drink. "'Cause I thought that's what this Nick character already did to my son, against his will."

"Nick bonded with Kurt out of fear." Constance explained patiently. "And he bonded with Blaine out of pity. Powerful emotions, but nothing is quite as strong or powerful as true, uncensored love. Nick hasn't had the opportunity to take Kurt's innocence. If Kurt gives it willingly to Blaine, then the bond he has with Nick is completely broken."

"I don't want to think about my son's innocence." Burt admitted brokenly. "It's been hard enough knowing that my flesh and blood is some sought after prize."

"I know it's hard." Constance wrapped her calloused hand around Burt's trembling fingers. "Bonding with Blaine will be the best thing for him. Not only will they develop a deep, powerful relationship, it will help them. I promise. Kurt can choose not to give Blaine that part of himself. He can. It may be more challenging for him to fight Nick, and the coven, but he does have choice here. He can wait for as long as he wants."

"And it will save Blaine." Burt grunted, turning his gaze to the boy feigning sleep. "Don't pretend you're not invested in this."

"Of course I am." Constance frowned. "Blaine is my grandson. His bond with Elizabeth can only be broken if he forms a stronger, healthier bond with someone he truly loves. If Elizabeth gets to him again, Blaine will become nothing but a shell. He'll be powerless to stop the spirits from using his body. It's a terrible thing."

"You were a Knave, weren't you?" Burt gently hugged her, comforting her as she cried.

"Don't you get it, Burt?" Constance's voice changed, turning slightly muffled. "I still am. If I leave this house-the property-I am vulnerable to spirits."

The two adults shut the door, moving their conversation elsewhere. Blaine thought about the conversation he'd overheard. Kurt slept soundly beside him, oblivious to the stipulations attached to their feelings.

"I love you." He whispered into the afternoon breeze. "And I'll wait for you. I don't care if you decide you don't want to do this. You saved me, Kurt."

"Blaine?" Kurt blinked blearily at him. "Dave-Nick-I had a dream."

Tears cascaded down his pale cheeks. Blaine pulled him close, mumbling reassurances into his ear. "What did you dream about?"

"Prom." Kurt sobbed. "I dreamt about Prom. He-he."

"Shh." Blaine rocked him gently, wishing he'd never befriended Nick. "I won't let him hurt you."

A phone buzzed on the nightstand. Blaine instinctively picked it up, accepting the incoming call. Nick's thick voice cut through his lingering contentment. "Blaine. You touch him, and you'll regret it."

"Nick." His breath hitched. "Leave us alone. Haven't you done enough?"

"Kurt is mine." Nick spat. "I want you to bring him back. Now!"

"No." Blaine gasped, horrified at the prospect. "Never!"

"If you don't." Nick laughed cruelly, hitting something in the background. "I'll kill them."

"Who?" Blaine hated how weak he sounded. "Nick, stop this!"

"Say hello to Grayson." Heavy, pained panting filled the air. "And Santana. Finn, why don't you give them a shout?"

Bile and nausea leaped into Blaine's throat. Someone-it sounded like a guy-screamed.


End file.
